New Beginnings
by DivergingFangirl5
Summary: After the war, Tris decided that her future is abysmal. Four died. Her new boyfriend used her. And she is homeless. That is until Peter finds her wandering along a road in the middle of the night. Just when things start to get better, another war surfaces. Will Tris' choices destroy her?
1. Chapter 1

**I have decided to do a series. Really hoping you will like this story. I have big plans for it :) Of course, you can suggest anything you want to happen in the story as we go through it. Have fun reading and don't forget to review.**

**Thank you.**

I look down at the glistening pavement as I walk. God knows how long I've been walking for. All I know is that my feet ache; my shins burn despite the cold rain that is trying to cool them down. I don't know what time it is. But it is definitely past midnight. I remember glancing at the clock as he yelled at me, and it was eleven. I wrap my arms around myself and let the chattering of my teeth get louder. I don't stop the whimpers from coming out of my mouth either.

Life sucks. It's all been different since Tobias died that night. I have nobody. Well... now I definitely have nobody. I was stupid enough to go out with a guy after the war and look where that got me. He took my apartment, my pride and my goddamn car. I could have been driving instead of walking.

I hold out my shaky arm to signal a vehicle when I see lights reflecting in a puddle in front of me. For a moment, I think it would stop. But instead I am drenched with freezing water. A complimentary honking follows, informing me just how stupid I was, yet again, for trying to pull someone over. I hear the loud thumbing of the music from that van as it speeds ahead of me.

Please accept my deepest apologies for disturbing your party.

Assholes.

I cannot bring myself to cry. I've been through worse things. I am not going to cry.

I stumble forward as the ground gets abruptly higher and gasp, keeping my arms around my body. I focus on my soaking hair which is hanging in front of my face. A big drop of rain slides down the strand and plummets into nothingness.

I glance up as I hear the sound of an engine accelerating towards me from behind. I stick my arm out again, trying to keep it still as the thunder cracks.

To my surprise, the lights stop moving and I hear the sound of a car door opening. "Are you alright?" That voice sounds familiar. I am going mad.

"Um," I choke out as I turn around slowly. "I-I need a ride. Please." There is an unmistakable silhouette of a man, holding onto his car door. The front lights are too bright and I squint. My face must be pretty terrifying to him.

I think I hear him swear under his breath as he gets in and drives closer to me, without closing the door. Then he gets out and I see him. After all this time.

"Stiff?" He grabs my arm and releases it for a second, surprised by the coldness of it.

"Peter..." I don't know what to expect, aside from that any minute now, I'll be on the floor, clutching my stomach. What a night for him. He finally found me at my weakest point, and he is going to finish me forever.

"You're insane," He says. "Get in." Before I know it, I am in the passenger's seat of Peter's Audi.

I take a quick glance at him and notice that he is very well cleaned up. He is wearing what looks to be a black jacket of a tux. I can't be too sure; the lights of his car are glued to my eyelids. Although, it is not hard to notice that he recently shaved. His hair is black and thick with hair gel. He distracts me from my thoughts when he looks over at me, and I look away.

"Are you going to explain why you were wandering around a motorway at one am?" His voice is gentle. I watch his hand flick on the heating and turn a knob to make it come in faster.

I guess we are just going to ignore the fact that we only saw each other now after about a year.

"Just drop me off at the nearest hotel." I keep my shaky around me as I try to keep my voice even. Obviously it doesn't work because Peter stops his gaze on me for a second. I lean back into the seat as the atmosphere gets warmer.

"Still looking for adventures?" He asks. I smirk.

"I got kicked out of my apartment." I don't know why I tell him. Maybe I just need someone to talk to. Either way, I don't expect him to listen, but I continue. "My boyfriend... erm, he stole all the money I got after the war," Yes, I got given money for saving the city. It shows how corrupt the world really is. "And now... he doesn't need me. I mean, why would he? Nobody does." I force out a laugh and mentally kick myself when it turns out to sound more like a sob.

I am not going to cry in front of Peter.

"What a dick," I hear him say as he takes a sharp turn. "Aren't you gonna try to get everything back?"

"No," I whisper as I feel a hot tear roll down my cheek. I turn my head away from him and clear my throat. "I'm not going back."

"Hey," His hand rests on my forearm and I feel him rubbing it gently. "There are assholes everywhere. You get used to it." Yeah, you're one of them.

I shake my head and sigh louder than I wanted. I look ahead of me at the long road and realize that Peter is not heading to a hotel. He went past at least three already. I furrow my eyebrows and look at him. "Where are we going?"

"Where do you think?" He flashes a smile at me. "My apartment isn't far from here. Just don't fall asleep."

I am about to object but decide to let it slide. You don't get many acts of kindness these days. So I am not about to let one of the opportunities from them slip away.

"I've been taking classes," Peter looks over at me as if he knows what I'm talking about. "It's bullshit. It's all about trying to stay calm and not inflicting violence upon others. It helped a little, I guess. But I still don't feel like a better person."

I watch him with a crease in my forehead. Anger-management classes: he needed them.

"I've had time to reflect on the mistakes I've made," He gives me a long look as he drives. "I'm sorry."

This all seems surreal. Never in a million years have I thought that Peter Hayes would apologize to me. I shake it off with a shrug and sigh. "S'fine."

"No, it's not." He stops the car slowly near an apartment complex. It looks modern and has a massive parking lot in front of it. I feel Peter take my hand in his and rub it with his free one. "I'm not going to forgive myself until you forgive me."

I watch him in shock as he undoes his seatbelt. His eyes are dark brown in this light and make him look innocent. But I know better. "Then you will be waiting a while."

**Sassy Tris xD So what did you think of the first chapter. Obviously, this is a Petris story so there will be romance later on. Maybe sooner than you think. Please review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews for the first chapter. If you liked the beginning, you'll like this one. Enjoy.**

Peter's apartment is nothing like I expected it to be. I know he's been taking classes, and he cleaned up pretty good, but when I walked through the door, I didn't expect to see what I see now. The hallway is bigger than mine was, and the black carpet is perfectly proportioned to the floor. I look to my left and see a mirror covering the whole wall. My reflection is odd. I have bags under my eyes. I reach up and touch one of them slightly before sniffing and wiping my face.

"Take your shoes off here," he says. "You'll wreck the carpet." I roll my eyes at his remark.

"Glad your anger-management lessons are helping." I kick my shoes off slowly and place them against the wall, only to have Peter take them and put them closer to the door.

I feel his massive hands on my shoulders from behind and jump at the closeness. Turning around, I see him smirking at me.

"Take it off," he murmurs, referring to my shirt. "Then take a shower."

I obey and peel the soaking material off me. I have a tank top underneath, which is equally as wet. I watch as Peter walks further into his apartment after he takes his shoes off. He comes back and hands me two plush towels along with girly sweatpants and a shirt. I raise my eyebrows as I take them from him.

"Ex-girlfriend." He offers as an explanation. I nod and smile slightly before walking past him. "Straight down and to the right." He calls after me.

As I walk towards the door of the bathroom, I notice that he has the most amazing wallpaper. That probably says nothing about him, but I really like it. It's not girly, but it's nice. I nearly stumble over the glass coffee table as I look up. There is a chandelier above me. A chandelier. Why does he get to have the good life?

I shake my head in frustration and slam the door behind me.

The hot water nearly burns through my skin, but I need it. I lean against the shower wall and put my hands over my face, sobbing silently. What is the point in life now? I have nobody. Not Tobias. Not my parents. No one. I should be grateful for Peter right now. So I decide to take the advantage and at least enjoy the shower.

After I dry myself and walk out, I smell something delicious in the air. It smells like bacon. I can hear the sizzling in the kitchen. I am too tired to eat. I just want to sleep. Maybe I'll just tell him that. The only problem is that I have nowhere to go. And I doubt that he'll let me stay. I glance at the wall clock and see that it's nearly 2 am. The mirror on the other wall shows me just how hideous Peter's ex's style was. The sweatpants are way too pink and the shirt is too low cut. I cross my arms over my chest and walk towards the source of the meaty smell in the kitchen.

"Lookin' good," Peter remarks, glancing over his shoulder. "You're not vegetarian, are you?"

I shake my head and sit at the dining table, hoping that my eyes are not too red. The last thing I need is Peter Hayes pointing out that I've been crying.

"It gets lonely here. That's the reason for the super neat surroundings. I hope you don't mind." I watch as he flips some food on the frying pan.

"Why would I mind?"

He shrugs and I look back down at my lap. From the corner of my eye, I see that the dining table is made of glass. _For fucks sake. Where did he get the money from_? I almost ask as the rage builds up inside me.

After about a minute of staring at my shaky hands, I see a plate being placed in front of me and turn to it. I was right: bacon; along with a variety of colorful vegetables. I realize that the colors are blurring together and close my eyes to blink away the tears. I don't think Peter notices because he asks me the most ridiculous question: "Was the water hot enough?"

"Yes," I croak as I begin to eat. I don't sound like myself.

"The boiler plays up sometimes. Are you warmer now?" He glances at me.

I nod. He sees that I am not willing to talk and we spend the next ten minutes eating in silence. When Peter finishes, he gets up and leaves the room. I let my shoulders relax and sigh deeply. For how long is he going to pretend that he cares?

I feel a luxurious blanket being draped around my shoulders. Peter clears his throat and I turn around to look up at him. He forces me to stand when I realize that he sees I am done with the food. I watch as he secures the blanket around me and force a smile. "Thanks."

"You can take my bed," he says. "I'll sleep on the couch." I am too exhausted to care or complain, so I simply nod and let him lead me into the bedroom.

I am lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Peter has a weak light flickering on a wall, so it's easy to see my surroundings. It is getting on my nerves. Has the money for a chandelier but not to fix that goddamn light.

His bed is amazing. If I wasn't in this state, I would probably fall asleep straight away. I hear the low hum of a radiator generating heat near the bed. Peter insisted on putting up a portable radiator near my bed. Probably hoping I would burn to death.

I was just trying to find a better life for myself. But apparently I made all the wrong decisions. I am single now, and not by choice. I wanted to matter to someone. But all people ever want is money and sex.

Suddenly, I cannot take it anymore. My thoughts overwhelm me and I burst out crying. I put a hand over my mouth to conceal the sound but it doesn't work and a horrible moan escapes me. I feel the whole bed shake as I cry quietly. I want to be loud, but even now I have to control myself.

I hear the sound of running footsteps and mentally kick myself when I feel Peter slide into bed next to me. The blanket is tugged from me and I turn around against my will, keeping my hands on my face. "Tris…"

He strokes my wrists gently and I nuzzle my head into the pillow next to him. So much for not crying in front of Peter.

I decide that I don't care for how loud I am and for the first time in about a year I let go of everything. Peter's hands slide around me and pull me closer to him. I grip his shirt and let it soak in my tears. His touch is foreign but it soothes me. One of his hands hovers around my waist patiently as I whimper. "Shh…" His breath is hot near my ear.

I let myself curl up closer to him and cry until I finally fall asleep.

My dream is the same as it was for weeks. I am standing in a stimulation room and Four is behind me. Suddenly, he takes out a stained knife and directs it at my head. Instead it hits me in the heart.

I wake up with a loud gasp and jump up. A hand is pressed against my chest and I shriek at its strong force, pushing me back. "Tris, it's okay."

I realize now that Peter is next to me. I will be okay. I try to slow down my heartbeat and put both hands on my head. The nightmare slowly subsides. Peter is sitting behind me, rubbing my back. I calm down soon and lean back against him so that he cradles me. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't." My thoughts are loud. I don't feel tired at all. Part of me is too scared to go to sleep. I am not brave enough. Not brave enough to see that horrible nightmare again.

"Okay," I feel him sit back against the headboard. I crawl into his lap when he runs a hand through my hair. "You want to talk?"

I shake my head. I don't know what I want.

"Hungry?" He guesses. Again, I shake my head no. I feel him sigh with an emotion, and I can tell its frustration. But when he next speaks, his voice is calm. "Let's just stay like this then."

Peter's lessons are helping him. I can tell. He is so much more gentle and patient. He tricks me into thinking that he actually cares about me. But it's good enough. It's the best anybody has done for me for months. I look out of the enormous window that presents the view of Chicago. I let the lights of the city take me somewhere far away. That is until I feel Peter's hand tracing patterns on my back. That is the moment I surface back to reality.

**Remember you can add any ideas you want to this story. Let me know your suggestions in the reviews. I can't wait to read them :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**There you go, guys, chapter 3. Most of you have been really enthusiastic about this story which I'm very grateful for. I hope that none of you stop reading, I have a lot of exciting things planned.**

I wake up with a twitch to the sound of bread popping out of the toaster. My eyes open and suddenly I recall what happened last night. Peter gave me sleeping pills. After about an hour of staring out into the distance, he got up and found the small jar with them inside. He must have been so frustrated. Although, I have no idea why he didn't just sleep and forget about me.

I turn my head to the alarm clock. It's eleven in the morning. My head is full and heavy; it feels swollen. I bring a hand up to my face to touch the bloated skin and groan slightly. Headache. I sit up slowly, shutting my eyes to block the morning light out. What must I look like?

I pass the mirror in the bedroom as I walk towards the kitchen. I don't need a reminder of how I look. My eyes are glued to the floor when I sit at the table and immediately put my head in my hands. All the movement in the kitchen stops and I realize that Peter must be staring at me.

"Did the pills help?" He asks, as I hear the sound of liquid pouring into a container.

"Yeah," I yawn quietly. "But now I have a headache." I don't mean to sound like I am complaining. But I realize that at this point, it is inevitable.

I hear him opening the first aid box, then the sound of pills clattering around the container. "Here." I look up and see that he placed a white pill on the table. I take it silently and try not to look up too much, as he might notice how my face looks.

After I wash the tablet down with some water, Peter puts what looks like my breakfast in the middle of the table on a tray: toast; coffee and an apple. Where am I, at a hospital?

It takes me by surprise when he sits down on the floor in front of me. His hands rub my knees and I look further down, but of course he is already looking at my face. "I have work soon." He is kicking me out. I furrow my eyebrows and glance at my breakfast.

"I'll eat it quickly then." As I reach out to grab the apple, Peter shakes my knee gently.

"What?" His voice is full of amusement.

"So I can leave before you do." I bite into my apple hesitantly, glancing into his shining eyes.

"Right…" he says. "You're not leaving. I was just saying that you'll be alone for a little while."

This causes me to look down at him. I can't tear my eyes away from his. All of a sudden, I don't care about how hideous I look.

"I can stay?" I swallow and he nods.

"Of course," Peter stands up and fixes the watch on his wrist, smirking to himself.

"Can I ask you a question?" I bite my lip. He gives me a curious look. "Where do you work?" His gaze softens on me as the words leave my mouth.

"Security," he says. "They're taking the fence down. I was hired to watch out for any shifty individuals who might intervene with the process." I pull my knees up to my chest and furrow my eyebrows.

"They're taking the fence down?"

"There's not really any threat anymore," Peter shrugs. "They're giving people the opportunity to leave Chicago."

I look at the tattoo on his wrist for a moment. Is that really a good idea? I know that nobody ever threatened the city since the war but who knows who is still out there?

"Anyway," Peter clears his throat and puts his hands on my knees nonchalantly. I suck my legs in closer. "Do whatever you want. You know where the food is. You know where the bathroom is. There's a television in the living room," he gestures to the door I have never opened before. "I'll be back in about five hours."

"Okay." I smile when he takes his hands back and put my legs down, my feet touching the floor. They are taking the fence down.

When I open the door to Peter's living room, it creaks a little. He needs to fix that. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. I am still wearing the clothes I was given yesterday. I will look for more later on. Right now I am stepping into the foreign room. The composition of it matches the rest of Peter's apartment: black carpet; glass coffee table in the middle of the room and a large window on the wall. The view shows me another side of the city. I am able to make out the outline of the fence against the blue sky.

I walk over to the leather couch and sit down slowly, my head turning to scan over the shelves he has on the walls. There is no wallpaper in this room, instead the wall are completely white. The television stands on a table across from me. I have never had the chance to use one yet. We've been introduced to them after the war, and only the wealthiest people have the money to buy them. Mine was destroyed by my ex-boyfriend as soon as I got it. There are flat boxes beneath the device. I crawl over to them and take some out. They are films. Most of them are marked with the horror sign. Some have the letter 'R' for romance. I pick one of them and check for the title. Vertigo, it's called.

After about ten minutes of figuring out how to set up the movie, I sit back on the couch and use the remote to adjust the volume. I have never seen a movie before, so I pay close attention to the people in it. They are supposed to be acting, but it looks real to me. When the two lovers kiss, I can't help but think about what it would be like to kiss Peter. Obviously, it will never happen, but it can't hurt to dream, right?

I pause the film and get up to grab a snack from the kitchen. Peter's fridge is full of junk food. It all consists of cakes, burgers and fizzy drinks. I'm guessing that when we had vegetables yesterday; it was the last of his healthy options.

I pick up a pack of smoked ham and walk back into the living room.

As I continue watching the film, I notice that my eyes are starting to close. It'd been a long night. I should have known that I didn't get enough rest. I've eaten the whole pack of ham. Better put the packaging in the trash before Peter comes. Soon enough I cannot keep my eyes open any longer and let my dreams take me away.

My eyes flutter open to the birdsong outside the window. I am not tired at all when I try to stretch. It makes me smile. Wait... have I fallen asleep? I jump up and look around in a panic. The television is off and the packaging from the ham is no longer on the table. As I move my legs, I notice that they are tangled in a blanket. Has Peter put this over me?

For an answer, the door opens and Peter walks in. He smiles when he sees me, and I smile back, running a hand through my hair self-consciously. He is wearing a black shirt, which matches his hair. His eyes are still warm. I can't believe the effect those lessons had on him.

"Feeling better?" I watch him come over and sit on the edge of the couch.

"Yeah, thanks," I sigh. "Sorry, I fell asleep. I didn't mean-"

"Tris, you are living here for now," His hand reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't mind. Sleep for however long you want."

I am tempted to put my hand over his as to say thank you for all that he has done. But I hold back and simply smile.

"How was work?" I ask as he puts his hand on my knee.

"Alright," he says. "The usual." I notice how my legs are touching his back and blush slightly. Since when are we so comfortable around each other? "You need some new clothes. We should go back to yours and grab your stuff."

"I'm not going back there." Suddenly, the fear starts building inside of me. I give him a serious look to prove that I'm not joking.

"I'll go with you," he says. "Talk some sense into the guy."

"No, we're not going." I shake my head and look down. There is no way. I would rather stay in these clothes than go back to the house and have a chance of him threatening me.

I close my eyes for a moment to clear my head. I feel the couch beneath me sink down; evidently Peter sits closer to me. I feel one of his arms wrap around me and tense up. To avoid eye contact, I duck my head into his chest. I feel him smile when he rubs my back.

"If you don't want to go, we won't go." I feel his hand squeeze one of my shoulders. "You can borrow my clothes, or Fiona's." I raise my eyebrows in amusement and pull away to look at him.

"Fiona?" I ask. Peter smirks at me.

"That was her name." I bite my lip as curiosity takes over me.

"Why did you guys break it up?" Peter gives me a casual glance, like that is the most normal question ever.

"I didn't love her."

"But you lived together." I smile slightly. Peter pouts and shakes his head.

"Well, that was my mistake." He traces his thumb over my lip and I shiver, suddenly wanting more. What is wrong with me? I'm supposed to be pushing him away.

"Can we go somewhere?" I ask out of the blue. Peter straightens up and brings his hand down.

"Sure," he smiles at me. "For a walk?" I nod and he mimics my movements.

"The weather is gorgeous." I offer as an explanation. He chuckles and stands up.

"Let me get you some clothes."

I end up wearing one of Peter's shirts and his ex-girlfriend's tight jeans. I must say that the combination is pretty ridiculous. His shirt is way too big for me and the jeans are too tightly suited. I suppose it's better than wearing nothing.

I look over at Peter who is walking by my side along a lake we found near what used to be the Amity compound. Since the faction system was destroyed, it is now more of a public park. The sunset in the distance gives off the vibrant orange colors which seem to turn pinker across the sky.

I stop in my tracks when Peter puts his arm around me and pulls me closer. "Look, stay still." I follow his finger which is pointing at the fish in the water. They writhe among themselves, not finding much space to swim.

"There are lots." My eyes follow one fish that is faster than the rest. It's trying to escape the hubbub but there is always something in the way, like the rocks or other fish.

I feel Peter's arms twist around me from behind and smirk to myself, hoping he won't notice. There is something pleasurable about the way he holds me. Like nobody ever did. I put my hands on top of his and relax when he intertwines our fingers.

"You cold?" His voice is deep near my ear.

"No," I shake my head slowly and lean back against him.

"Can you forgive me yet?" My heart sinks at the mention of this. Am I ready to forgive him? Do I lie? I don't know, can I? He put me down a lot through verbal and physical abuse. But now he has changed. Things have been going so well between us lately. I hold my breath and nod.

"Yeah, I can." My voice is quieter than I expected it to be.

"Really?" His lips are near my cheek and I smile widely, enjoying the feeling.

"Yes," I say. "It's all in the past."

His chuckle near my ear makes me shiver and laugh along with him. He presses me tighter against him as I look up at the sunset. The air is cold. But Peter isn't.

**Please review and tell me what you thought of this chapter :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Just so you know, I was inspired by a scene in the Spider-Man trilogy before writing this chapter. Hope you enjoy :)**

We get home just in time for the sun to be completely gone. Peter flicks the light on in the apartment and his marvellous chandelier flickers to life. I catch my breath from all the laughing I did on the way here. I never knew Peter could be that funny. His jokes are hilarious. I guess I missed a lot since I spent most of the time hating him in the past. I thought he was downright rude. But now as he speaks, I sense no trace of brutality in his speech.

"Do you ever miss the Dauntless cake?" He asks, taking off his jacket and hanging it up after sliding the glass door to the wardrobe to the side.

"Oh, my god, I do," I chuckle. "We didn't get the chance to eat a lot though." I smile as he hangs my jacket up for me and slides the door shut.

"We should bake one," Peter turns to me. "Do you know how to bake?"

"Only a little," I reply, folding my arms.

"That's good enough. We'll just improvise." He flashes his dazzling smile at me and leads me into the kitchen. I haven't noticed till now that I am beginning to open up for him. Maybe I should hold back, before I expose myself completely and get hurt again. It is so hard.

Peter takes out some eggs from the fridge and places them on his kitchen island before looking over at me expectantly. The traces of a smile are still on his face. "Care to join me?"

I nod way too quickly and walk further into the kitchen awkwardly. To break the silence that awaits us, I ask, "Where is the flour?" Peter gestures to a cupboard with his chin and I rush over to it, taking the big bag out.

"Do we need to wash our hands?" I hear his voice behind me and chuckle.

"I think so." I turn around and laugh softly at his face. He seems lost. He has really never done this before. You would think that he'd know to wash his hands before cooking though.

Peter nods and walks over to the sink, turning the tap. I follow. The water looks to be gassy. It doesn't flow like it did from my tap when I had an apartment. The stream is thick and I can tell that there is some air amongst the multiple streams. My view gets blocked when Peter's hands thrust into it and I look away quickly. My eyes wander around the kitchen awkwardly before I hear the water shut off. "Your turn," He says.

I smirk as he rubs a towel over his hands and wash mine quickly. He tosses the towel in my direction at the same time as I hear music fill the room. I raise an eyebrow at him and realise that he is holding a small remote, pointing it at a stereo. I had one of those.

The song is very upbeat, and I definitely hear the guy in the song singing about doing the twist. I notice Peter smiling at me and shrug my shoulders nonchalantly.

"You like it?" He asks and walks back over to me.

"Yeah," I say. "It's different." I snap back to reality when he claps his hands in front of himself, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Alright," he exclaims. "What else do we need?"

I list out the ingredients to him and watch as he runs around the kitchen, collecting various necessities. I fold my arms when the kitchen table seems to be packed with everything we need. Peter turns to me and opens his arms out to me, as if to ask if that is everything. I nod in response and we start making a mixture.

I beat the eggs at the kitchen island as Peter busies himself weighing out the flour. I smile to myself as I watch the eggs become one great yellow substance. The music is still bouncing around the walls, and the inevitability of dancing grows thick in the air. I shake my shoulders ever so slightly as I continue to stir the mixture and let my body relax.

The catchy tune grows louder in the room and I realise that Peter must've noticed me dancing as he is smirking. His arm is extended to the stereo, turning up the volume. I laugh and barely hear myself as I get completely lost in my movements. My head gives in along with my legs and before I know it, I am in the middle of the kitchen, "doing the twist".

My legs carry me towards Peter and I grab his hand, shrugging off his rejections. He shakes his head intently, but I pull him into the middle of the kitchen and he begins copying my moves. I laugh when he twists his body from side to side, putting way too much thought into it. Soon, I can't breathe because I am laughing with my head thrown back. I let him grab my hand and spin me. He leads the dance and I don't complain. By accident, I bump into a counter and squeal and Peter slams into me from the lack of control. I hold onto his shoulders to keep him at a small distance and giggle as the music stops.

It is all too abrupt. I look down in embarrassment and try to conceal my smirk when I feel Peter's chest moving in rhythm to his laugh. "You're an amazing dancer."

"Shut up." I shove his chest playfully. He balances himself by resting both of his hands on the counter behind me, which also makes him lean in closer. I need to cast my eyes up. I've had enough of hiding. I listen to the inner me and look up at him. Holy crap, his face is close. It is inches away from mine, to be exact.

I feel the back of his hand run down my cheek and bite my bottom lip. Immediately, he releases it by running his thumb across it. I take the chance when he is not looking into my eyes to look into his. They are dark. His pupils are dilated and I can barely see the brown iris. God knows what this man is thinking. His stare is intent. Suddenly, his eyes flick up to stare into mine.

"What are you thinking?" he asks. _Strange, I was about to ask you the same question. _

"I don't know." My voice is different. It is vulnerable and weak, and I look down. Is it possible that I have feelings for him? It can't be. I must be mistaking love for desire; I desire to be loved by someone. I desire for Peter to look at me how he does now. But that's all there is: desire. He makes me forget about how screwed up things are. Maybe that's why I like having him around: to be my distraction. It can't be love. Can it?

"Tris," he warns. "Tell me. I need to know." He way he hisses my name sends chills down my spine.

"We should bake." I fake a smile and lean back slightly. Peter takes the hint and takes a step back, still looking stern.

"I want us to be honest with each other." I watch as he absentmindedly rubs his wrist, where his tattoo is.

"Are you warning me? Are you hiding some truth serum in here?" I smirk and he seems to relax when he smiles at me.

"No," he clears his throat. "Let's make the cake."

The whole affair seemed pretty easy. We made the mixture and poured the contents into a baking tray, then turned on the oven. My hands were covered in chocolate substance. I licked part of my finger to try it. It tasted pretty sweet.

Peter is busy washing the pots at the sink. His shirt is tight around his body and somehow defines the muscles in his arms. I watch him struggling to scrape chocolate from a bowl for a while and then walk past him, grinning to myself. I let my finger flick across his arm, leaving a trail of chocolate there. He notices what I did and turns to smirk at me over his shoulder. Then he turns the tap off. Uh-oh.

"Feeling confident?" He wipes the chocolate from his arm and licks it off, his eyes shining bright into my soul. God, I love how he smiles from his eyes.

"Maybe," I tease, biting my bottom lip again. I found that it seems to wind him up.

I see the pupils of his eyes contract just before he launches himself at me. He grabs me by the arms and a shriek escapes me, followed by laughter. He gathers some of the mixture from my hands and trails his finger along my face. The coldness of the chocolate spread makes me gasp and I squirm away from him, running around the other side of the table.

"Peter," I laugh as I try to wipe it off. My struggle seems hilarious to him because he squeezes his eyes shut as he guffaws.

I roll my eyes at him before looking down at what I managed to wipe away from my face.

"Here," he strides towards me, grinning like a kid who just got a lifetime supply of candy.

At first I think he will wipe my cheek for me but then he leans in close to my ear and I widen my eyes. I feel the wetness of his tongue running across where he marked me. I put my hands on his shoulders and chuckle nervously, closing my eyes.

All the blood rushes up to my face when he compresses me between himself and a wall. I feel his heartbeat pound against my chest when he lowers his mouth to my neck. He makes sucking sounds below my jaw line and I'm very sure he didn't get any chocolate there. A part of me wants him to keep going. The other part is screaming for liberty.

Peter pulls away slowly when he notices that I'm panting. _What the hell was that?_

"It's gone now," he whispers, making me shiver even more. I smile slightly and nod to myself more than to him.

"Thanks," I croak. I watch his chest rise and fall when I place my hand there. By adding more pressure, I feel that he has pecks.

I don't think we know what to do now. We stand there for a moment before Peter finally pulls away and clears his throat. When I move forward, I feel my womanhood tighten. Holy shit. I didn't realise how turned on I was. I cast my eyes down to the floor and looks up again when I feel Peter walk away. He opens the oven and checks the cake. His smirk of approval tells me that it's ready.

The cake is delicious. Not the same as they used to make at Dauntless, but close enough. I smile as I eat the last spoonful and lean back in my chair, licking my lips.

"That was perfect," Peter moans from the other side of the table, swallowing the last mouthful. I smile at him as I watch. Most of the tension left us when we started eating the dessert. I think we should be fine now, as long as none of us accidentally touch each other. The ghost of his hot mouth can still be felt on my neck, if I concentrate hard enough.

I look down at my plate, which is stained with brown crumbs. Peter's voice breaks the silence again.

"I'm going to shower," he stands up. "Get ready for bed if you want." His eyes burn into me and I sit up straighter.

"No, I think I'll wash up first." I stand up and picks up the plates. Peter has no problem with that as he turns towards the bathroom.

"Don't miss me too much." I roll my eyes at his remark and smile to myself.

As I go over to the sink and wash our filthy plates, I have time to reflect on today. Why was Peter so intimate with me today? I know that he doesn't like me in that way. Although I hope he does. Why would he act like he does if he didn't feel attracted to me? Probably to get into my pants. Even though I forgave him, I can't fully trust him yet.

I hear the water run in the bathroom behind me and his clothes being discarded on the floor.

When I finish washing up, I turn off the light and make my way to the bedroom. Deep in thought, I strip and put on the sleepwear I find in Peter's closet. Why didn't he get rid of these clothes?

I jump when I hear him walk in and spin around to see him wearing sweatpants. Only his sweatpants. His abs still glistens from the water he allowed to wash over him.

"Going to bed?" he asks and I nod. "I'll be in the other room if you need me." He turns to walk away.

"Wait," I stop him. "Can you stay here?" I gulp as soon as the words eave my mouth. To my surprise, I detect no cheekiness in his eyes and he nods at me casually.

"Of course," he says and walks over to the bed. I turn the lights off when he crawls under the covers and go over to my side of the bed.

"Goodnight," I tell him quietly before pulling the covers over me and closing my eyes. I hear him say it back before the sound of is slow breathing fills the room. I can't tell if he is asleep. I take my chances and shuffle closer to him, pressing my head against his shoulder.

My breath catches in my throat when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto his chest. He doesn't say anything. I am thankful.

**Please review and tell me what you think :) If anybody wants to suggest something for the plot, feel free.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 is finally here!**

**I don't know about you but I am super hyped for Insurgent. I can barely breathe.**

**You will enjoy this chapter more as it has more action and more drama xD It is also extra-long. So here it goes.**

Something hard pokes me when I wake up in the morning. I remember that Peter is in the same bed as me and tense up. I move my hip slightly and notice that one of his hands is under my shirt, on my stomach. The skin contact is almost too much; I wonder if he was awake when he put his hand there. I turn so that I am lying on my back and shiver as his hand travels farther up my body. Quickly, I take it and place it on the mattress between us.

I look down to see a bulge in Peter's sweatpants. My eyes dart up to his face immediately and to my relief I see that he is still asleep. That must be natural. It's not like he can turn himself on in his sleep. His face looks peaceful. His hair is sticking up at odd angles and before I can help myself, I run a hand through his tangled locks.

His eyes flutter open as I jerk my hand back quickly. I watch as his lips turn into a sleepy smile.

"Trying to give me a new hairdo?" his deep voice murmurs.

"Not exactly," I say. Suddenly, I feel embarrassed, and I hope the red doesn't show up on my face. I feel him stretch beside me. I bite my lip to conceal my smirk when he pulls the covers over to his crotch, evidently trying to hide the bulge. He groans softly.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Peter asks. _Nice way to avert my attention_, I think.

"I'll just have some coffee," I prop myself up on one elbow, looking down at him.

"No food?" His eyes scan over my face.

"Not hungry," I sit up and stretch. I notice that Peter takes this opportunity to cover up the parts of his bulge that are still noticeable. I smile at him. "Having trouble?"

"Nope," he clears his throat and gets off the bed quickly, grabbing his shirt.

I roll my eyes and scramble off the bed too.

During breakfast, we sit in silence. I sip my burning hot coffee, glancing at Peter every now and then as he eats his apple and reads the newspaper. You would think we are a married couple, but the fact that we are so different gives the truth away. After a while, Peter looks at his watch and stands up.

"Right," he says. "I'm off to work." He tosses his paper onto the table and walks over to me. I smile up at him expectantly.

"Back in five hours?" I bite my lip. He reaches down and runs his finger across it slowly.

"Yes, honey," he jokes. I roll my eyes and shove his arm playfully. "See you soon," My eyes widen when he leans down to me and kisses my cheek. I'm not sure if he's joking, because he still has a big smirk on his face.

I sip my coffee when I hear him in the corridor. He puts his shoes on, then his jacket and leaves with a bang from the door. I'm alone again.

With a sigh, I get up and walk towards the kitchen sink. I pour the rest of the coffee down the drain and clean the cup quickly. I start thinking about what would have happened to me if Peter didn't find me that night. I probably would have located Christina, even though that now she lives miles away. I miss her so much. Maybe I could ask Peter if we could visit her.

My thought flash back to yesterday night. The baking... the kiss. Well, not a real kiss, but close enough. There is no way Peter did what he did to get rid of the chocolate on my cheek.

I hear the door in the hallway open; then the sound of it slamming. Peter must have forgotten something.

I smirk naturally and walk up to the door to see him. I would've been happy to see him there: standing with that smile on his face; looking me up and down like he usually does- but I'm not.

Because it's not him.

The creature that stands in the corridor is my ex-boyfriend. His buff arms are folded in a threatening manner. His blonde hair is combed down as if he is ready for a job interview. His clothes were picked in a rush because it is not the style I recognise him wearing.

"Hey, gorgeous," he hisses. I jump away from the door and take cautious steps back as he strides towards me.

"What are you-"

"Wondering why I'm here?" His calloused hand pulls what looks like a penknife out of his pocket. I try to not look scared and fold my arms, keeping his gaze.

"How did you fin-", I am interrupted again when he slams me into the wall. The sharp blade of his knife threatens to cut into my throat and I whimper.

"You have a tendency of getting into trouble." His mouth is so close that I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Derek," It feels weird saying his name again. For so long, I have tried to avoid it, and now it comes out like poison, burning my tongue.

"You think you can jump from guy to guy like that? You're a whore." His knife presses hard to my throat and I grab his arm, trying to push it back. I know that he probably means Peter. I want to tell him that there is nothing going on between us. But my mind races and I blurt out another answer.

"You kicked me out!" My tone does not sound brave. If anything, I think it makes him feel better seeing and hearing me at my weakest point.

I sigh in relief when the knife leaves my neck, but groan as he strikes at my face. I put my hand on my cheek and feel a gash just above my jawline. From the corner of my eye, he moves and I duck just in time to dodge another blow. Now it does feel like home.

Derek's drunken state makes him a bit slow. While he slides his penknife down into the pocket of his jeans, I take my chance to run past him. Obviously I am proven not to be fast enough when I get pushed onto the floor. I groan as his weight slumps onto my back.

"Get up, you bitch," his hand grips my hair. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I know I am not stronger than him, but I have been through worse. I take a deep breath when his weight leaves my petite figure and try to get up before he pulls my head off.

He pulls me up by my hair and spins me around so that I am facing him. My pathetic clawing at his arms does no good. Derek grips my neck with so much force that my vision starts to blur. This is my only chance. I might never get this opportunity again. I use my legs to try and kick him wherever I can, but he holds me at his arm's length.

I am pushed backwards. I gasp for air when my throat is no longer in his grasp and realise that he let me go for a reason. Then that reason stabs me in the back repeatedly.

I hear the glass dining table smash beneath me and I shriek when the pieces dig into my skin. For a moment I try to fight it. However, I am not as fast as I used to be anymore. If I get up, I will be pushed back down. If I stay on the floor, he will probably stamp on me.

"I missed you, Tris," Derek straddles me and I hear him undoing his belt. "Did you miss me?"

"Go fuck yourself." I buckle my hips in an attempt to get him off of me, but it backfires when I am reminded of the glass in my back. I scowl.

He slaps me across the face. He is going to kill me afterwards. I know it. I just wish Peter was here. I wonder if he would try to protect me. I broke his table. He would probably kill me too if I lived.

Suddenly, the penknife that he used on me earlier grabs my attention. My reflexes kick in and I grab the handle, sliding the weapon out of his pocket. Without thinking about what the consequences might be, I drive the knife into Derek's leg. Adrenaline rushes though me when he yells, and I get the urge to do it again. I stab him repeatedly where I can until his body floats up and away from me.

I cannot hear him groaning anymore. I turn my head to the side and see that there is nobody there, only the little pieces of red glass are scattered around the kitchen. I jump when I hear the door slam. It swings open again with a creak before hitting the wall. He must have broken the lock.

I can't move. I have to get up but I can't. My body is on fire. I roll onto one side and gasp when I feel the pieces of glass digging into my arms. I get up slowly. First I sit. Then I stand.

My face is stained with tears. They are hot on my cheeks. I put my hand up to wipe some moisture away and groan when I am reminded of the gash on my cheek.

It's been about an hour since Derek left. I checked the front door. It was broken. It can't be closed. After I spent some time trying to get it to click in place, I gave up with a groan. Having no hope in getting the door fixed, I turned to the kitchen and tried cleaning up the mess there. As soon as I leaned down to pick up the glass, the pain in my back made my vision blur.

So now here I am: sitting on the edge of the bathtub, desperately trying to get the glass out of me.

Terror rises in me when I hear the front door creak open. My eyes scan the room for a weapon. The best I can find is a razor on the shelf above the toilet. I dart up and grab it quickly. Those footsteps don't belong to Derek. I hear the individual stop in his tracks, and then walk slowly towards the kitchen. I hold my breath. The footsteps become louder when they pace near the bathroom door.

A small squeak of surprise escapes me when the bathroom door opens to reveal Peter. His eyes are more alert than ever. He looks me up and down faster than I've ever seen him do before he runs up to me. I drop the razor when he pulls me into a hug. I can't help the sobbing as soon as he reaches up to touch my face.

"Peter," I have never sounded so weak before. He searches my eyes for any signs of pain and by the looks of it, he finds plenty.

"What is it?" he is breathless. His thumb traces under the gash in my cheek gently.

"My back," I say. Peter is careful not to place his hands there as soon as I tell him what is wrong. "He found me."

I try not to break down completely when he turns me around. I grip the edge of the sink as I feel him lift up my shirt. "It's okay, I'll take care of it."

My shoulders shudder as I try to stop crying. Why is he back so early? He said it would be at least five hours before he came back. "Why are you home so early?" I speak my mind.

"I wanted to spend time with you." I nearly laugh. That is so convenient.

My shirt is on the floor. I put my hands up to my chest automatically. Even situations like this didn't make me forget about my self-consciousness. I feel Peter's eyes scan my back as his hands idly hover around my hips.

"Get in the bath," he breathes. "I'll deal with your back first." I turn my head to look at him and furrow my eyebrows. He must have noticed my discomfort. "It's okay. Keep your pants on."

I watch as he leans over me and starts running the water in the bath. As I watch the bath get fuller, Peter's arm goes over me and presses against my chest. I question what he's doing and I am answered by the sharp pain behind me. With his other hand, he starts taking out the pieces of glass. My two arms wrap around his one, and I whimper.

"Shh," he comforts me. "There's a really big piece. Just try and be brave, Tris." His voice echoes from the time he said that to me before my said "execution". I gasp softly when I feel it coming out and squeeze my eyes shut. I try to relax the muscles in my back, so that the process goes smoother, but it doesn't work.

"I'm sorry about the table," I think I hear Peter chuckle.

"You think I give a shit about the table?" I feel the moisture of his lips press to the back of my neck. I manage a small smile before he let's go of me. "Get in, I'll be right back."

I get into the bathtub and cuss under my breath when the water swims over the gashes in my back. I squeeze my eyes shut and pull my knees closer to my chest, hugging them. I hear Peter come back and shut the door behind him. He sits on the edge of the tub and I look up to see some sort of liquid in a bottle in his hand. He unscrews the cap and wets some cotton wool before leaning in close to me.

"It's going to sting." I nod slightly and watch his eyes until they disappear behind my back. The burn from the liquid makes me gasp as he dabs it repeatedly against my back. "Nearly done."

I chew hard on my lip as I feel him disinfect my lower back. His hand is gentle, although I know that he doesn't give me breaks in between the cuts because he knows I can handle it.

I relax slightly when he puts the bottle of liquid down on the floor. I rest my head on top of my knees and sigh. I am cut open and I feel the cold air blowing into my back. It feels better. I moan in pain as Peter starts to pour water down my back. I look down to see that the surrounding water has turned red. There is so much blood.

"Can you stand?" I hear Peter mumble. I nod to myself and stand up slowly. Behind me, he is holding out a black towel. I cover my chest with my arms and get out of the bathtub, walking into the towel he is presenting me with. He wraps it around me slowly along with his arms.

"Thank you," I sigh into his shoulder. He smells like sweat and cologne. It is similar to Four's smell, but I have to say I prefer this one better.

"Okay," he breathes. Peter goes to rub my back but holds back as if he just remembered what was wrong with me. I feel his hands rub my hips instead and smile up at him. "You're going to tell me what happened after I'm done with this."

I glance up at his face and see traces of anger. Heat rises up to my face and I gulp. I knew he would be mad.

Peter sits me down on the edge of the bathtub as he takes care of my face. He tells me that it will need stitches and I contemplate for a second. He reassures me that he knows how to stitch skin up so I let him. I feel the needle dig in and wince, pulling my head back. Peter's hand pushes my head back towards him gently, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. After he is done, he puts a big plaster over my cheek in an attempt to hide the hideous mark. I don't think it works because he grimaces.

"C'mere," he says. I let him pick me up and carry me to the bedroom. The glass crushes under his boot and I close my eyes to drown out the sound. Peter rests me on the bed, letting me lay on my front. I twist my head to the side to look at him. His expression demands answers. So I tell him.

I explain how I heard somebody come into the apartment. I explain how my ex-boyfriend launched me at a wall and threatened me with a knife. Peter's facial expression changes throughout the story. I notice three emotions: first there was anger; then sadness; then finally rage. He leans down next to the bed, close to my face.

"You need to tell me where he lives," he whispers. I know what he wants to do and I won't let him. Getting revenge is one thing; killing a person is another. And quite frankly I don't think I will be able to cope if I turn out to be the cause of somebody's death again. I shake my head in response and he sighs. "Get some sleep; we'll talk about it later."

I hear him sweep up the glass on the kitchen floor. What am I going to tell him? He wants to go over there and kill him. That's what the old Peter would do. He's like an animal; protecting his territory. And when somebody threatens it, he attacks.

The stinging in my back wakes me up. I groan and sit up slightly but a hand pushes me back down. I realise that Peter is busy doing something back there. "I had to do it while you were asleep, it should be better now."

I open my eyes and see him tossing some cream onto the nightstand. Then my view gets blocked by his face. He seems calmer now, but the crease in his forehead tells me otherwise.

"Tris," he says. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I answer. The corner of his mouth twitches up slightly and I relax. He strokes my good cheek with the back of his hand. I am reminded that I am lying on my bad cheek, so I lift my head and balance it my putting a hand under my chin.

"Can you please tell me where he is?" I bite my lip as he runs a finger down my bare shoulder. "He might come back."

"No," I furrow my eyebrows. "I can't tell you."

"Tris, I'm trying to help." His head tilts to the side to look at me better. There is moisture in his eyes.

"I know," I say. "But I can't let you. I know what you will do. You'll lose control-"

"Is that what you think of me?" This is why I was dreading this talk. He will probably slap me towards the end of it too. He gets up and starts pacing around the room, running a hand through his hair.

I want to sit up like a normal person, but I am aware that I will completely expose my chest, so I stay put.

"What do I have to do to make you talk?" he mumbles to himself more than to me.

"Nothing," I say. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

"How can you say that?" I feel the temper rise deep from within his body. "That asshole nearly killed you. And now you want me calm down and forget about all of this. I need to find him. I am going to find him. You'll make everything go way faster if you just tell me where he lives."

"Look, if this is about the table-"

"I don't care about the fucking table!" he yells. I gulp and sink back into the mattress, burying my face in the pillow. I am back to where I was a year ago. I feel how I felt when Peter slammed me against the wall in the Dauntless compound. The moment he found out I was ranked first.

I keep quiet for as long as I can, but then I have the urge to fight back.

"There's nothing you can do that will make me talk," I wince as the pain in my cheek starts burning and lift my head.

"Fine," he sighs. Even though he tries to make it seem like he is calm, I feel the anger pulse through his shoes and into the floor as he stomps out of the room. The front door slams shut and stays there. He managed to fix the lock.

**Don't forget to review :) I worked really hard on this one. **


	6. Chapter 6

Every moment is agonizing. I sit up and groan as the wounds on my back stretch open. I try moving one muscle at a time to get off the bed. Left leg over the edge, sit up straighter. Right leg shifts, turn my head to the side. Right leg over the edge, sit up properly. I must admit I've been through worse pain. I don't know what it is about this moment though. I can handle it. Of course I can. Maybe it's just that I'm alone. That makes everything harder.

I get up off the bed and stand for a moment. My head spins and the blackness flushes over my face. I close my eyes to get rid of the feeling. I open them again to see multi-coloured dots in front of me. After a minute, they vanish. Blood loss.

I grab one of Peter's large shirts from the closet and slide it on, sighing in relief when it doesn't press against my back. It just skims.

Slowly, I make my way to the kitchen.

I fell asleep after Peter left but I don't know how long for. I don't sense his presence, nor do I hear any human inhabitants. I hold my breath when I walk out of the room. It just might be my intuition playing tricks on me, but I expect him to be stood near the kitchen counter, making dinner.

I walk in and release my breath when I see that he isn't there. Surely, he can't be serious about tracking Derek down by himself, without any help. Either way, I am not helping him.

The glass table isn't there anymore. The room feels slightly bigger. I walk up to the fridge and help myself to a slice of cake. It really is delicious, even though Peter and I improvised the recipe halfway through.

I close my eyes as I feel the chocolate sponge swirling around my tongue, coating it in chocolate frosting. It gets stuck to the roof of my mouth. It hurts my cheek to chew. The second spoonful of cake reaches my lips just when I hear the door open. I pause for a second and then continue eating. The door shuts softly before I hear the sound of shoes being kicked off.

I turn around just in time to see Peter glancing at me. His eyes jump back down to his feet as he puts a large bag down on the floor. It was on his shoulder a second ago. I turn back to the cake and idly poke at it with my spoon as I listen to Peter taking off his coat. The deep sound of his voice fills the room.

"I got your stuff," he says.

I turn around more confidently now, thanking God that he was the one who spoke first. Keeping my hands by my sides, my stiff body crosses over to the black bag. Peter unzips it for me, displaying the stacks of clothes I left behind. Then it hits me. He must have found him.

I glare up at him as he picks the bag back up and strides into the bedroom. I follow him as subtly as I can manage. The bag lands near the wardrobe with a loud thud. "You have a lot of shit." The effortless cussing he does gives me assurance and suddenly I am able to speak.

"What did you do?" My voice is colder than I expected it to be. He turns to me. His eyes seemed to change from chocolate brown, to black.

"I got your stuff," he repeats.

"What did you do to _Derek_?" My hands clench into fists. I am sure that he notices as he takes a cautious step back. He makes it look laidback, but it doesn't work on me.

"If you're so worried, why don't you marry him?" His voice spits venom at me and I shake my head to get it off.

"I don't care about him-"

"Oh, so now you don't care?" he asks, waving his arms around.

"I never cared! I just don't want you to go around killing my exes!" I shout in frustration. Hurt replaces anger on his face and I almost feel sorry for him.

"I'm not a murderer," he says. "We just had a little talk." The way he runs a hand down his knuckles, makes it seem like it was more than just a talk.

"I hope you know that I don't trust you." I watch as he goes over to the bag and starts taking the clothes out, stacking them onto the shelves inside the wardrobe.

"I'm not surprised," he says. He sounds calmer. I look him up and down, wondering why I am still whipped up when he is so cool.

"What did you do to him?" I ask again, more stern. His frustration shows when he slams some of my shirts into the back of the wardrobe.

"I punched him in the face!" Peter glances at me before shutting the door, "And might have broken his arm." He turns to face me and folds his arms. I see his reddened knuckles. "But I didn't kill him. So just thank me and get your feisty ass back into bed!"

"You haven't changed at all!" I spin around and storm out of the room, towards the kitchen. I hope my anger is influencing him as this much movement really hurts. I'm probably doing this in vain.

I tense when I hear him walking behind me and slow down, trying to show him that I'm not afraid.

Suddenly, his arms are around me and before I know it, he is carrying me bridal style into the bedroom. I cry out as his muscular arm presses against my back, but he doesn't seem to care. His face is focused on the direction he is walking in. I bite my lip and try not to scream when he drops me onto the mattress. Immediately, I roll over so that I am on my front and face plant the pillow. The heavy blanket is dropped onto me and the force makes the wind follow. I moan slightly and turn my head to the side, watching as Peter takes some pills out of the nightstand drawer.

"Take them," he says. "If you need water, it's in the kitchen."

And with that, he walks out of the room.

I lay on my side, staring out of the window. The stars show me a whole galaxy. Some twinkle, some gradually fade out. I furrow my eyebrows as it starts to get foggy and soon all I can see is white mist with some buildings behind it. The pills Peter left for me were painkillers. I thought they were sleeping pills. That explains why I couldn't get to sleep.

Am I being ridiculous? Peter saved me. Not from what happened, but what could have happened. I should be grateful that now there is less chance of Derek coming over here to do God knows what with me. But I'm not. Peter scares me.

I know that he is a much better person now, but what do I really know? Can I ever trust him?

The questions just keep bubbling up in my mind. Why does he have his ex-girlfriend's clothes here? Why didn't he throw them away? Is he hiding something from me? I know he isn't Candor anymore and Candors don't lie but I assume it is difficult to forget most of your life. It is definitely difficult to forget my times in Abnegation.

Do I have feelings for him?

I press my lips together and get up off the bed. Through the dark, I navigate my way with my hands and feet out of the room. I see some light in the living room and walk towards it. The door is halfway open when I walk in slowly. The television is switched on and I turn my head to see Peter sitting on his couch, with a drink in his hand. I don't think he notices me.

Glancing at the television, I walk towards the couch. Peter only notices me when I am next to him. I sit on my leg and lean in closer, pressing my face against his chest. He is warm. To my relief, he returns the favour and wraps his free arm around me. I notice that the drink in his glass is brownish, with about six cubes of ice inside. My eyes go to the coffee table and I squint to read the name on the bottle: Scotch.

We stay in that position for a moment. Me- breathing in his scent; him- running his fingers along my lower back. We both watch the film I am unfamiliar with before he sticks his glass under my face. I take it voluntarily and have a sip. It is extremely unpleasant, but the drink seems to warm me up slightly. I hand him back the glass and feel him swallow it when I put my head back on his chest.

I notice my hand tracing patterns on his leg when he shifts. I don't mean to be suggestive, I just feel comfortable like this.

"I'm sorry," his voice surprises me. "I should've listened to you." I roll my eyes at him.

"Are you just saying that because you know that's what I want to hear?"

"Yes," he admits. I smirk to myself and sigh.

We watch the people on the screen talk amongst each other. At one point I feel Peter release a deep chuckle from within him. I love that sound. He downs the rest of his drink and leans over slightly to put the glass down.

I give him space. When he leans back to where he was, I lay my legs over his lap slowly, biting my lip. He holds them in place with one hand and pats my ankle.

What he does next takes me aback. I feel his breath on my neck before his lips connect with the skin. Oh, boy, here we go. On instinct, I put a hand in his hair and grip it slightly in case I need to pull him back. Peter seems to like that as I feel his lips vibrating against my neck when he moans.

I gasp as his lips travel up to my ear, nibbling on it. Something completely foreign takes over my body. I want more. I cup his head in my hands as he kisses along my jaw line. I giggle at his avoidance of my lips and lower my head so he can kiss me properly. He doesn't seem to take the hint, so I press my lips against his myself.

He pauses before he kisses back. The taste of his lips is so different to Tobias' and Derek's. It's simply Peter. I deepen the kiss when his hands travel up my back. Groaning softly, I arch it, reminding him that I can still feel pain. I hear his whisper an apology which brushes past the corner of my mouth.

I furrow my eyebrows and straddle Peter's lap, feeling his hands squeeze my hips. "Tris," he whispers. I moan back to him quietly and start grinding against him. Whatever animal is in me, it is threatening to come out.

He bites down on my lip and I shut my eyes tightly. I concentrate on trying to feel him through all the fabric that is between us. Within minutes, I feel his manhood rise up to rub against my covered up crotch.

I kiss him harder, desperate for him to evict some kind of sound.

To my disappointment, he grips my hips too tightly and I cannot move. I pull away in between kisses. "Peter," he stops kissing me and I frown.

"Stop," he whispers against my lips. My cheeks flush and I look down in embarrassment. His thumb brushes below the wound on my cheek. "I am not touching you until you are fully healed."

I look up into his eyes and see that they are dark with lust.

"You are making this kind of hard," he presses a kiss on my chin, "Literally."

I smirk widely and squeeze his shoulder, pressing my forehead against his. "What if I'm impatient?"

I don't know what happened to me. I think I am in love. Holy crap, I can't be. After all that I've been through, I can't possibly risk putting myself into that spot again. This will be the end of me.

**Please don't forget to review :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**So did any of you guys see Insurgent? What were your views on it? Personally, I loved it, but it lacked the sense of character as barely any of Tris' friends properly talked to her. Obviously, my favorite scenes were the ones with Peter in them xD**

**Enjoy this chapter :P**

The pressure of Peter's large hands woke me up the next morning. I moaned slightly when I felt that my back was completely moist in a warm substance. He must be rubbing in the cream. I lift my head lazily to let him know that I am awake. I try to raise my ass but I feel his torso pressing down on it and smirk slightly. "Morning,"

"Morning," Peter replies, "Does it hurt?" I glance at my shoulder and shake my head.

"No," I say. "Is it looking better?"

"Much better," he says.

He climbs off me before I am tempted to get up, but I press my chest into the mattress when I realize that my shirt is off. I smile to myself and rest my head back, listening to Peter behind me. By the sounds of it, he is zipping up his pants.

"You took my shirt off," I state. I feel him grinning when he talks.

"How else was I going to rub your back?" he purrs. The seduction in his voice makes me shudder.

"I think you were looking for an excuse to get me naked," I bite my finger as I wait for an answer. Since when did I become so bold?

"You're not naked," he says. "You still have your pants." The bed sinks near my hip where Peter takes a seat.

"Still very exposed," I turn my head as far as my neck would let me to look at Peter. He notices my discomfort and shifts onto the floor. I smile as he leans in closer to me and rests his head on his wrists.

"Come to work with me tonight," his breath is on my face.

"Near the fence?" My eyes scan his face. He looks determined. Although, I'm not sure what the determination is for.

"I don't want you to get lonely," he says. I feel my heart sink when he says that. His Candor is showing; he can't lie to me. It's obvious that he only wants me to tag along because he is afraid somebody else will come and beat the shit out of me. "What?" I fake a smile when he furrows his eyebrows.

"Nothing." That doesn't seem to convince him.

"I see it in your eyes. What's the matter?" he grazes my lip with his finger and I look down, sighing in defeat. There is no point in avoiding this.

"Nobody's going to come back," I breathe. I flinch as he cups my face with one hand and look up at him.

"I know they're not," he says. My eyes travel down to his lips.

"No, it's not that," I clear my throat. "I just... I want you to know that I can stand up for myself."

"What are you talking about?"

"I let my guard down the last time. I wouldn't let it happen again if somebody attacked me."

His expression softens when I realize that he understood what I was saying.

"I know that," he says. "You're the bravest person I've ever met. You're a survivor." Peter's fingers skim my jaw line, making the corner of my mouth twitch upwards.

"Then why do you act like I'm in need of constant protection?" I sense a tone of frustration in his sigh as he closes his eyes and opens them a while later.

"I want to protect you, Tris," he concludes. "I've never felt that way towards anybody before. Generally I wave it off and save my own ass. But with you it's different."

I bite my lip and check his dark eyes for anything he might be hiding. But I don't see anything.

"I know you lost the only protector you had," I gulp and glance down. "And I know that you don't trust me, but none of that matters to me. I'm just happy you're here with me."

I blink away the tears that are threatening to spill. How the hell is Peter Hayes capable of saying such affectionate things, and being so right at the same time? I fear that he'd notice the moisture in my eyes and keep them cast down. Unfortunately, he does. Quickly, I try to avert his attention.

"So we're going to your workplace?" A small smile creeps onto my face.

"If you want," he replies. "It'd be more fun for both of us."

A stifle a sniff and look up at him when I'm certain that the wetness on my eyes has subsided. "Yeah, okay." I watch as Peter flashes his grin at me and close my eyes.

I should run away now. Before I fall in love with him and get hurt again. But something pulls me closer to him instead of repelling me from him. I don't think he lied about what he said. For the first time I actually felt him reaching out to me and making me warm. The cold ice that froze my soul has finally begun to melt.

Suddenly, I feel his warm lips brushing past my shoulder and making their way to my neck. Automatically, I turn to lie on my side for him to get better access. Shit, what if he can see my boobs? I take hold of his head and try to guide it in the direction of my lips. Successfully, his lips meet mine and I smile against them as he chuckles.

Before Peter has the chance to do anything, I reach around me and pull the covers over my chest. I don't think he cares because the aggression he adds to the kiss nearly bruises my lips. We move our lips together passionately. I reach up and grip his hair tightly when he pushes me onto my back. I barely feel the sting.

He pulls away abruptly and I feel his heavy breathing hitting my face. I open my eyes to see him staring down at me. "I want to fuck you." My heart skips a beat and suddenly I'm feeling brave.

"Then do it." His eyes are darker than I've ever seen them. I can feel my face heating up and I pray to God that he doesn't see me blush.

"Not yet," he whispers. I let out a sound that is something in between a moan and a gasp. "I'll fix you some breakfast."

Afterwards he stands up and leaves.

I find that I am able to wear tight shirts without them irritating the injuries on my back. The cream Peter used really worked well. I stand looking into the mirror for the first time in two days. I almost don't recognize myself. I started applying make-up that Peter brought for me along with the clothes that day. I don't look tired anymore. And I am smiling. Oh, and I finally put on a bra which feels like I haven't worn in forever.

"Ready?" Peter calls out, running a hand through his hair. I turn and smile at him. He is wearing a Dauntless jacket, and he left his hair uncombed. That makes the two of us. My hair is too short to comb anyway, a good pat will do. I look back into the mirror to check I that I am wearing the right clothes: black pants; brown boots; white tank top and a blue button-down shirt over it. I have missed one of the factions: Abnegation.

"Yeah," I say as I follow him out of his apartment.

Peter is working later than usual. Apparently somebody in his department couldn't make it, so now he is covering for that guy. I glance at him from my seat as we drive down a badly lit road. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if somebody just pissed him off. I smirk slightly and reach out to tap his shoulder. Immediately, he breaks away from his thoughts and grins at me.

"Are you excited to accompany me on this delightful stakeout?" He murmurs. I giggle and answer.

"I am excited. But I wouldn't call it a stakeout." From the front window, I see the lights on the fence flickering brightly.

Peter parks his car near a dark building I haven't seen before. There are some men equipped with torches at the entrance, laughing hysterically at something. I turn my head to the left and see that a part of the fence is already destroyed. Not a major part, but there is a definite gap which would allow three trains to pass through at the same time. I get out of the car after Peter and give him a small smile when he takes my hand and leads me towards the entrance.

I watch as Peter greets his colleagues. They are all alike in terms of body figure. They have broad shoulders and bulging muscles, threatening to rip their shirts. I tear my gaze away from them and smile at Peter as he introduces me.

"Err, this is Tris Prior," he points at me with his thumb. One of the guard's jaw drops.

"Tris Prior? As in Beatrice Prior?" he lowers his torch. I cast a nervous glance at Peter before answering.

"Yeah, that's me."

"It's an honor, Miss Prior," I blush as the tallest guard kisses the top of my hand.

"Y'know it sounds weird when you start repeating her name," Peter says. I am thankful for the utterance as it evicts some laughs from the guards.

"Sorry, it's not every day you get to meet the savior of the city," one of the guards says.

"I'm not a savio-"

"Are you here to inspect our workplace?" The guard that kissed my hand asks, interrupting me.

"No, I'm just-"

"Actually, she's here with me. Keeping me company," Peter says, wrapping his arm around my waist. One of the guards wolf-whistles before his friend lets out a chuckle and I look down.

"Go on in," Peter takes his badge from someone and leads me into the building. I press myself against Peter and watch my feet as we walk, hearing the crowd of men laughing behind me.

"Well, that was embarrassing," I say. Peter squeezes my hip and turns around the corner.

"It's fine. They've just never seen a celebrity before," he explains. I wouldn't call myself a celebrity. I reject that title. What really did I do? I killed most of my friends during the war; got my parents murdered; lost Tobias; made my brother flee away and now they call me a hero. The truth is that everybody hates me. It's the people who don't know me that think I am amazing.

I am not.

"Make yourself comfortable," Peter says as he opens a door. I walk in and look around in awe. Dozens of computer screens cover the walls. They are stacked on top of each other and curve so that if you stand in the middle of the room, you can see them all clearly. Peter closes the door behind us and I turn to look at him. "Basically, we need to look out for suspicious behavior."

I glance at a screen on my right and see the guards we passed minutes ago, still laughing and talking amongst themselves. It must be their break.

"It's a very important job. I must ensure that nobody stops the process of demolition. We deal with a lot of lunatics."

I walk over to a desk chair and sit down slowly, keeping my eyes on the screens. Their cameras seem to be planted everywhere. There are about four behind the wall, three near the exit and the rest in the compound.

I feel Peter rest his hands on my shoulders and smile. I put my hands on top of his, standing up. "Here," I say. He gives me a curious look but obeys and sits in my spot. I get down on his lap and press my back against his chest. His arms twist around my waist and keep me from sliding off of him. We stay like that for a while before he speaks again.

"My family died too, you know," his breath is hot on my ear. I furrow my eyebrows slightly as he continues. "My mum, dad and sister."

"I didn't know you had a sister," I say, trying to change the subject. But he carries on.

"I hated you for that. I regretted ever helping you in the Erudite compound. I couldn't forgive you," he whispers. I look up at the cameras instead of his hands.

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" I croak. His chest falls and rises quickly, letting out a pointless breath.

"No," he says. I feel my face getting hotter as his grip on me tightens. This is exactly why I can't trust him. He acts like he is about to murder me.

I turn my head and look into his eyes bravely. They are dark with rage. Suddenly, I regret turning to face him when his fist connects with my stomach. I groan and try to get up from his lap, but he keeps my pressed against him with his arms. "Peter, please!"

I shriek when he slams my head against one of the screens in front of me.

With a gasp, I jump in Peter's lap and look around in fear. I am in the same room, but something is different. His hands are still around me, but they are gentle.

"Tris, hey," I widen my eyes as I turn around to look at him. My heartbeat calms down when I realize that I was dreaming. His expression is soothing and shows clear concern. "You okay?"

I take a minute to look around again. I spot a wall clock and furrow my eyebrows when I see what time it is. Ten past midnight. We've been here for a while now. I must have fallen asleep.

Peter's touch sends me back to reality and I look down at him again. He pulls away from kissing my shoulder and stares at me. His eyes are alert.

"I tried to wake you. You looked like you were having a nightmare," he says. I sigh in relief when he confirms that the fight I experienced wasn't real. My heartbeat slowly goes back to normal and I nod at him.

"I'm okay," I whisper breathlessly. Peter wraps his arms around me when I press my face into his chest. I try to blink away the look he gave me in the dream, but it seems to be glued to my eyelids.

"Why was six afraid of seven?" he asks. It takes me a minute to realize that he is telling a joke and I shrug, smirking. "Because seven eight nine."

I smile into his chest and shake my head when his body starts vibrating. I look up to see him laughing silently when he slaps one of my hips gently. "That was terrible." I don't know what it is but it cracks me up too. I let out a giggle and shake my head again as he looks into my eyes.

"You loved it," he whispers. I am about to protest but as fast as a bullet, his lips are on mine. As we kiss, I recall the dream again. It's not going to simply disappear, I know that. I recall the look in his eyes. It was so different from the Peter I see now. What if that actually happened if he hadn't been taking anger management classes?

He pries my mouth open with his tongue as we swap positions on the chair. A moan escapes my lips when I feel his hand travelling up my shirt. It lingers below my breast as I pull away from his mouth. His lips attack the sensitive spot on my neck and I smile slightly as he pulls me closer.

I open my eyes slightly and widen them at what I see. On the screen that is located near the fence are at least five men armed with guns. They sprint in the direction of the security building, leaving a dead body behind them. "Peter," I gasp.

"I know," he whispers, trailing his lips down my chest. I roll my eyes slightly and push him away, earning a confused glance. It is replaced with terror when he follows my gaze to the screen. I sit up quickly and put a hand on the spot Peter just kissed. Who are they? They are heading here really fast.

"Shit," Peter whispers behind me. I turn around with the chair and watch as he clicks a gun and tucks it under his belt.

"You have weapons in here?" I ask, standing up.

"Prepared for everything," He explains. I gulp when he opens the door and looks around. If I knew that he didn't transfer to Dauntless, I wouldn't ever know about the faction he chose. He is unprotected and stupid. Nobody simply pokes their head out of the door, knowing that there are armed men out there.

"Are you insane?" I yell, pushing him against the wall and shutting the door. He glares at me.

"What are you doing?" He asks, watching me take the gun out of his belt and shoving it into his hands.

"You said you have to be prepared for everything!" I yell again, only causing his face to grow more confused.

Do I really have to do everything myself?

**Please review and tell me what you think :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, a friendly warning here. I nearly cried writing the end of this chapter xD You will see why. There is Fourtris in this, but mostly Petris. The Insurgent movie has really inspired me to do my best and keep these characters... in character :P Please enjoy this one **

I look down at my hands and clench the gun I am holding as tightly as I can. It has been a long time since I grasped one of those. It feels alien and heavy. My knuckles turn white as I try not to drop it. Peter gives me a nudge to snap me out of my thought train.

"Hey," he says. "Don't drift off like that." I look up at his serious face and nod quickly.

"I'm sorry," I trail off as he strokes my good cheek. He leans down and kisses me briefly.

"Stay here and watch the screens," he hands me a device what looks like a radio. I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head.

"No, I'm coming with you," I lift my gun up slightly. Something tells me that I will never get what I want when Peter is involved.

"No, you're not. It's safer here," he explains. "I want you to tell me where they are heading. Press this button," he points to a large button on the side of the device, "and talk to me. Just stay in the room."

"Where are you going?" I ask, panic in my voice.

"This is my job," he says. "Just please don't walk out of that door." He kisses me one last time and leaves. I stand looking at the door Peter closed behind him. That is until his voice on the radio makes me jump. I hold it up to my mouth.

"Peter?" I cry.

"Tris, tell me what you see!" His voice sounds through the holes in the device. I gasp when I hear muffled gunshots and run up to the screens. There is nobody outside anymore, so I look down at the screens of the cameras in the buildings.

"Two men, heading to the control room," I answer quickly. They are all wearing masks, so I wouldn't know who it was. I start panicking when Peter doesn't reply.

"Peter!" I yell into the radio after pressing the button. There is white noise before my device beeps and Peter answers.

"Where are they?" His voice is lowered. I calm down slightly and continue looking at the screens. Suddenly, all at once, they go black. I widen my eyes before shaking my head.

"I think they cut the power," I whisper when I realise that my surroundings have gone silent. The radiator next to the door isn't humming and the lights have gone off. "Peter?" I smack the radio as it dies and whimper quietly.

Whoever we are dealing with must be smart. I wouldn't be surprised if those people were from Erudite.

I take a deep breath and click the bullets into place before turning on my torch light and walking towards the door. It opens with a quiet creak and I push it gently. Everything is pitch black. Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and try to listen for any sounds of human presence. I hear nothing but low, muffled voices on the other side of the wall. Opening my eyes, I let my torch light guide me through the never-ending corridors.

All of a sudden, I hear a loud gunshot behind me. I gasp and move faster to the end of the hall, leaning against a wall when I am far enough. The gunshot was way too close. I take a deep breath and hold my gun in place before spinning around and firing at a figure I can barely make out. There is a loud groan and a thud. I sigh in relief when the groaning continues, knowing that I didn't kill the culprit.

I follow the voice and lean down next to the body. While shining the light on the face, I peel the mask off roughly. I don't recognise him. He has dark skin and a couple of tattoos on his face. I look down to see him bleeding arm and shove him against the floor roughly. "Who are you?"

He doesn't answer, but continues panting. He squints his eyes to try and make out the features of my face which are hidden due to the light. "Answer me," I get impatient and punch his face. I have not done that in a long time.

When I hear more gunfire I gasp slightly and straighten my back. "Tris Prior?" The man speaks.

I realize that I dropped my flashlight and scramble across the floor to pick it up again. The man sits up and grabs my arm tightly. "We know what you did," I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off, "She's here! Tris Prior is here!"

I gasp and try to get to my feet, but he has a good grip on my arm. Out of panic, I raise my gun and shoot him in the head. I hear approaching footsteps and yells. Immediately, I jump up to my feet and start to run wherever my legs are taking me. They are shaky, so it takes me a few moments to regain my balance.

Who are those people? Why are they after me?

I run along a corridor, yanking at every door handle there is. When one of them works, I fly into the room and slam the door behind me. I hadn't noticed now rapid my breath is. I am trying to stabilize it as I stare at the door and listen to the distant yells.

A warm hand covers my mouth and I scream into it, thrashing on instinct. I am about to use my elbow to jab the person behind me but I am pressed into the figure. "Shh, Tris, it's me," I close my eyes and calm down once I hear his voice. He drops his hand.

I turn around and see Peter staring at me. He looks worried, panicked and angry at the same time. I don't care if he yells at me for coming out of the room. I throw my arms around his neck and gasp against his chest. The smell is all too familiar and I am left hyperventilating with overwhelm.

He rubs my back reassuringly. I ignore the sting that I feel and hug him tighter. I concentrate on the hasty thudding of boots outside the door and hold my breath. They all run past.

"Tris," he whispers quietly. "We need to go now."

"Who are they?" I expect him to shrug his shoulders and tell me that he is clueless but he doesn't. And that is worse.

"They are looking for you," his whisper tickles my cheek. "We will talk about this later; right now we need to go." He pushes me away gently to look into my eyes and I nod obliviously. "Cover me."

I nod again and follow him as he walks past me. I get my gun ready and dart out of the door after him. The flashlight on his belt lights the corridors as we run after the culprits. I jump when Peter starts shooting and press my back against his. I see a silhouette and shoot at it once, watching it fall to the ground. That's two people I've murdered today.

I run after Peter when I feel him leave me and look down at the floor. The men in masks lay dead, their arms and legs in odd positions. I step over their bodies and run after Peter.

"I think we're done," he calls out to me. I look up at him and nod slightly. He glances at me, pressing his lips together. "Are you alright?"

I nod again and clear my throat as if to tell him I haven't lost my voice. He smiles at me slightly, and rubs my arm. I notice how hard I've been clutching the gun and loosen my grip slightly. I hear the pounding of feet from behind Peter and we turn around in unison, our guns ready. I sigh when one of Peter's colleagues emerges from around the corner.

"You two okay?" his voice is deep. I let Peter answer for me as I lower my gun. Everything happens so fast that my mind is not physically capable of keeping up with reality. "Look out!"

I groan when Peter slams me against a wall to protect me from gunfire. The force makes me drop my weapon and clutch Peter's shoulders instead. There is the sound of bullets whizzing through the air before everything goes silent. Peter turns around first, and then me. Both men are dead. The guy who kissed my hand fired just in time to save everyone but himself.

Peter seems lost at first but when he realizes what happened he runs up to his colleague and shakes him in an attempt to wake him up. I whimper and cover my mouth. I hear him uttering his name, but it is too late.

Suddenly, the lights turn back on and I lean against the wall for support. There are a dozen of men scattered around the floor. I see it clearer now. Blood stains the white tiles of the building and drips onto the floor. It's a bloodbath.

I gather up my courage and limp over to Peter slowly. He stands up when he feels my hand on his shoulder and clears his throat. We hear more men running towards us, only this time the footsteps are more familiar. Most of them gather around their dead friend while one comes up to me to interrogate me about the attack.

"Leave her," Peter says, pushing him away. "I need to take you home."

"Are you coming with me?" Peter nods and extends his arms towards me. I hug him without objection and look over his shoulder. Everyone gets busy inspecting the bodies on the ground. They pull their masks off first. I don't recognise anybody.

"They're the rebels," one of them calls out, holding up what looks like an ID card. I feel Peter turn and unwrap my arms from around him.

I wipe my hands on my pants as I walk into Peter's apartment. I feel warm blood on them, even though it isn't there. I look down at my clothes to see that they are stained with red. It must be from the time I leaned down to try and communicate with the rebel.

One of the men informed me of the attack. Apparently, they were getting regular. The rebels only want to keep the fence up. They are devoted to the faction system and would not let the major part of society take over so easily. As I thought, most of them originated from Erudite; the others were Dauntless. But the part that knocked the only emotions I had out of me was that they were planning to execute the spark of it all. The spark of the revolution: me.

It was just their luck that they found me in that building so early on in their mission.

"There will always be people like this, Tris," Peter says behind me, "Nobody will ever be safe no matter what we do."

"That is why I'm so scared," I turn to face him and give him a sad look. "They will come after you, Peter. Why can't you just hate me like you did?"

"I never hated you," he says. I put a hand over my face as he takes me into his arms. "Don't. I am not leaving you. Don't even try to persuade me," I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his scent.

"I just want you to realise by yourself that you will be better off-"

"I said stop," his voice is more firm. He cups my face in his hands and makes me look at him. "I am not leaving you. I'm not going to-," This time I interrupt _him._

"People have died because of me! I am actually willing to let you go for you to be safe! Why are you not letting me?!" I push his hands away and groan quietly.

"Because you are too important!" he yells back. I am not in the mood for this. I know exactly how it will end up. He will be confessing his love to me and I will accept it and forget about everything.

"I'm going to shower," I say as I slide my button-down off. To my surprise he stays quiet.

The mascara has leaked all over my face in the shower. I stand near the mirror, washing it off. It looks too horrendous, like I've been crying black evil. After my face is clean I hesitate before peeling off the plaster on my cheek. I see that my wound has healed up nicely, leaving only a pale pink scar. I look down at the white plaster and notice that it is stained with red. Carelessly, I toss it into the trash.

I dry myself slowly before putting on my underwear and one of Four's shirts. I think this is the only one I have. I wish it still smelled like him, put all the scent has faded away. My hair is still damp but I am too tired to care. I just want this to be over. All of the killings.

I walk out of the bathroom and switch the light off behind me. The lamp on the nightstand near Peter's bed is on but Peter himself is nowhere to be seen. I run a hand through my hair and walk over to the bed. Just as I get in, Peter walks into the room with what looks like a bottle of wine in his hand.

I glance from him to the bottle. The scene in front of me seems so random that I cover my face and burst out laughing. I blame it on the hysteria. Why am I laughing? Peter sits next to me on the bed and places the bottle in my lap. "Surprise,"

This makes me laugh even harder. I squeal and slump back onto the bed, shutting my eyes as I laugh. Peter starts laughing too. It makes the scar on my cheek hurt to the point where I'm sure that it will split open again. I clutch the bottle and roll over onto my side, letting my shoulders shake.

I don't know what happened afterwards but we certainly ended up drinking all of the wine. I don't know how Peter could resist getting into my pants when I was so drunk. Maybe he is still waiting for the right moment.

I lay on top of him, playing with his shirt. My head is spinning. I feel so much better.

"Is that Four's shirt?" he asks. I look up at him and nod. The alcohol seems to make me admit to things faster. Maybe this is why he got me drunk. "Are you still in love with him?"

I don't know, am I? I know for sure that I did love him.

"Mmm, I don't know," I slur, patting his abdomen. He smirks down at me and plays with my hair.

"He asked me to look after you," he admits. I drop my smile and stare up at him.

"What?" I whisper.

"It's true," he shrugs a shoulder. "Before he died, he made me promise. I was confused by why he would trust me to look after you. _You. _I could have just taken off."

I stare up at him in shock and raise my head slightly. Peter notices the look I'm giving him and blinks slowly as if to say that he is sorry.

"We both knew that you wouldn't just leave him there. So I dragged you out of that room. While the death serum was activated." My heart pounds and my hands shake.

I start recalling the night. I was next to Tobias with his head in my lap. There were the sounds of alarm everywhere. His blood was spilled all around him. My tears were dropping onto his chest as I waited for the death serum to fill the room.

David was unconscious in the corner of the room after I had knocked him out with the butt of my gun. "Tris, you have to leave," Tobias whispered. I let myself cry as much as I wanted because I knew that this was the end.

"You die, I die too," I sobbed. He was shaking his head and clutching my arm tightly. That is when Peter ran into the room.

"Oh, great," he said. I barely noticed his presence as I was waiting for death.

"Peter," Tobias called. His voice was weak. I watched his Adam's apple bob up and then down as he swallowed his blood. I couldn't look at anyone else. I just wanted to savour this last moment I had, and I was happy because this moment was going to be shared with Four.

"This place is about to blow, are you guys nuts?" Peter complained behind me. I didn't notice how but Tobias got him to lean next to him on the floor. I watched as he talked even though I couldn't register what he was talking about.

Suddenly, I felt Peter grab me from behind and lift me into the air. I watched the life leave Four's face when his head tiled to the side. Rage filled me and I started kicking my legs as Peter dragged me out of the room. "No!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Let me go!" I was determined that I was not going to live with this. I knew that I wouldn't be able to survive with the image of Four's dead body in the back of my mind all the time.

"I'm saving your ass, Stiff!" I received a blow to the side of my body and groaned. Before I knew it, the door to the room has sealed shut and the dark mist started filling the air. I screamed and slammed my hands against the door, repeating Four's name as I watched him being engulfed in the smoke.

To this day, the memory lives in the back of my mind. I tried not to remember it but now that Peter told me what happened, I am speechless.

I feel the hot tears stream down my face as Peter finishes telling me what really happened. His face is serious as he tries to dry my face with his thumb.

"Why did you do it? Saved my life, knowing that you could have been killed?" As soon as I ask, I wish I hadn't. Now, I have to hear him say those words. I know that as soon as they are out, nothing will ever be the same.

"Because I love you."

***jumps behind the couch and waits for readers to throw stuff at me* This is too cute. Please review xD**


	9. Chapter 9

**I think that the next chapter will be a lemon so therefore the rating will change to M. It may be the last chapter, depending on how you guys take it. And also, some of you wanted a chapter with Peter's point of view, and here it is.**

**Have fun reading :)**

_Peter_

So last night went really well. I finally got the chance to tell Tris I love her. I feel better now even through there is a big chance she won't remember it. When you're feeling sceptical, you have to bring out the wine.

I run my hand down her face one last time before getting out of the bed. She looks so peaceful when she is asleep. Though looks can be deceiving, she is probably having another nightmare. I heard her say my name in her sleep back at the security building. The last thing I want is for her to be afraid of me. No matter if it is in her dreams or in real life.

I know exactly when I started having those feelings towards Tris. It started right from the beginning. I did not feel guilty trying to hurt her during initiation. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I am slightly unstable, but I am convinced it was just jealously. I was jealous of how a Stiff could outsmart everyone. I was jealous of how she was stronger than me. Not physically, but mentally. She never gave up. She was a true Dauntless. That is why I fell in love with her.

I should have told her about the rebels of the city. Since Chicago was freed from the experiment, some people started to rebel: those who are devoted to the factions system. We thought that when we started to take the fence down, they would deal with the fact that the factions would never return again but that wasn't the case. Those people gathered a group, which mostly consisted of Erudite and Dauntless. A deadly combination. From what people have assumed, their mission is to stop the demolition of the fence first. Their next move would be to assassinate Tris Prior along with the people who aided her.

I put my shirt on and run a hand through my hair. We spent the rest of the night making out, so no complaints there. I was thinking about going all the way with her but I couldn't. Not when she was drunk. Instead, I let her discard my shirt. She fell asleep on me just when it started to get hot.

I smile when she groans in her sleep and turns over. Those sounds don't suggest a nightmare. I lean down next to her and run my thumb along her scarred cheek. Her eyes flutter open before she smiles at me. They are puffy and red from the crying last night. I remember the trickle of tears down my face as we kissed.

"Hey," I start, kissing her exposed wrist. She grins at me before placing a hand on her forehead.

"Hangover," she whispers. I kiss her lips before I can stop myself.

"I'll give you some water," I state, standing up to walk into the kitchen. I hear her sitting up when I leave the room and when I come back with the glass of water and Chaser, she stands near the window, looking out.

I watch her consume the pill and wash it down with water. Her gaze is vacant, like she is not in the room with me. I touch her to bring her back and she smiles, putting down the glass of water.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asks. I give her a curious look before she continues, "I'm not safe here, I am not safe at your workplace… sooner or later they are going to hunt me down. You are going to get hurt."

I suppress a sigh to hide my frustration and wrap my arms around her. "We talked about this,"

"Yeah, I know," she says, "But let's be realistic," I kiss her forehead when she looks up at me.

"We'll figure this out, I promise," I say. Deep down I know that I will never convince her. The girl is as stubborn as a mule.

Tris fakes a smile and kisses the corner of my lips.

That afternoon I called in sick, so I didn't have to deal with the dead bodies around my office and leave Tris behind at my apartment. She started yelling at me, saying that I can't just skip work forever because of her but I got my way in the end. She still glares at me from time to time, but I shrug it off.

I am sat on the couch with Tris sprawled across my lap, watching yet another film. She seems to take an interest in movies. More interest than I ever did. I watch as a crease appears between her eyebrows. Her eyes are glued to the screen. I can't help but smirk at how seriously she takes those films. It's like she is actually in that place, trying to solve the conflict herself.

I run a hand down her thigh to evict a reaction from her, but she squeezes her legs together, trapping my hand. I almost laugh. It's a wonder that she didn't notice what I was about to do.

I take a deep breath before leaning down to kiss her temple. She doesn't tear her eyes off the screen, but leans into me to accept the gesture. "Are you going to be mad at me forever?"

"I'm not mad at you," she says, glancing up at me for a second.

"Then kiss me," I challenge. She rolls her beautiful eyes at me before leaning up and pecking my lips. I spank her behind playfully and she gasps. "That wasn't a kiss."

I grab the remote and press the pause button, noticing how she sits up on my lap. "You weren't really enthusiastic about it," I say, grinning widely at her. Tris being Tris takes it the wrong way and slaps my arm. I raise my eyebrows at her, "What was that for?"

"You're being an idiot, Peter," she says. In contradiction, she straddles my lap and I run my hands around her body slowly.

"I just want you to kiss me," I whine. Even though she doesn't show it, I see in her eyes that she is amused.

"You want me to kiss you?" Before she has time to say anything else, I lean up and plant a kiss on her cheek. She giggles quietly. Success.

As soon as her shield is broken, I continue the trail of kisses down her neck, watching how she extends it for better access. My lustful inner self takes over and I start sucking on her collarbone, near her tattoo. Her hand grips my hair as I nibble at the skin gently.

"Peter," she sighs. I relax my muscles in response, hoping that she would feel how comfortable I am like this. My hands squeeze her butt tightly, pushing Tris closer to me. The pressure of her rubbing against my manhood is too much to take, and suddenly I feel myself growing.

I groan against her skin, letting her know how turned on I am. How have we not done this before? I was such an ass during initiation that I took all of my chances of being with her like this along with my ruthless personality. My guess is that she is not a virgin. Definitely not a virgin. A guy can only be with her for a certain amount of time before he starts getting urges. My urges started a week after I met her. She is irresistible.

I kiss her back loudly when her lips attack mine. She wasted no time with my shirt, and momentarily it is on the floor. Air escapes my lungs when she pushes me against the back of the couch and runs her petite hands over my abs. I glance up to see that she is chewing on her lip. Her bottom lip loses all of its colour, but I reach up and tug it away from her teeth, bringing the red back into it.

"You're so hot," I whisper. Tris seems to blush slightly and focuses her gaze back on my abs. I smirk as I watch her expression. One of her hands rests on my chest, where the heart would be. I stare at her in order to understand what she is trying to say, but her eyes are vacant. "Tris, talk to me."

"What?" she asks. I am confused by her response but then she continues, "It's been a long time."

I let my hand linger at the bottom of her shirt as she straightens her back. "Take your time," my voice is more playful than I intended it to be. She lets out a soft chuckle before leaning closer to me and kissing my lips once.

"I need to use the bathroom," she whispers, her lips brushing past mine. I take that as a clear sign. This is what girls do, right? Run to the bathroom to shave their legs?

"Okay…" I whisper back.

**Aw, man it's getting hot in here. Review and tell me what you think :P**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, here is the deal.**

**The majority of you really wanted the story to go on for lots more chapters, so I will be continuing the story, even though I have to change the plot xD That is why the summary will change. **

**Secondly, I am going on holiday for two weeks, therefore I will be unable to continue writing for that amount of time, BUT I will make a few chapters beforehand so that I can publish them anyway. I will not be updating everyday, but when I come back, everything will go back to normal. **

**Lastly, enjoy this chapter. This is the lemon. Rated M. If you are sensitive, don't read it, because this is pure smut :P**

_Tris_

I am freaking out. I am freaking out. I don't even remember the last time I was this nervous.

After I walked into the bathroom, I slammed the door behind me and took a deep breath. I think this is happening. Peter and I are actually going to have sex.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his gaze back in the room. He was staring me down. I felt like I was melting. If it was biologically possible for my ovaries to pop, they would have done it now.

I scramble towards the bathroom sink and stare at my reflection above it. My pupils have dilated so far that my eyes almost look black. Also, there is barely any colour in my cheeks. I slap one of them and watch it become red.

Why am I in here? Oh, yes. I needed time to be alone, and while I am I should take advantage of the opportunity.

My make-up is scattered across a shelf near the bath. Taking some mascara, I apply it to my eyelashes quickly. After I am satisfied with the blackened hairs, I grab a thick brush and start applying powder to my face to appear less dead. I try to put on enough for him to notice a change, but not too much to show that I am self-conscious.

The hair on my head is sticking out at odd angles again. I grab Peter's comb and brush it down quickly. Thankfully, it stays flat but out of paranoia, I can't resist to spray on some hair lacquer.

I realise that I am wearing a tight tank top and fist bump the air happily. This will be easier to work with than a baggy shirt. I push my small breasts up as far as they can go to display a clear curve. I turn sideways and see that not much has changed, but it will have to do. Now that the upper part of my body looks acceptable, I decide to focus on the bottom.

The sweats I am wearing are baggy and grey. Abnegation colour. I take them off it a swift motion and toss them onto the floor as I reach up into a cupboard to take out a razor. After smearing shaving cream onto my ankles, I cut through it with the blade, biting my lip in concentration. I have never shaved my legs so fast in my life. Peter will probably realise that I have been doing some adjustments if I take too long. I grab a towel and soak in in warm water before rubbing off the white traces of cream. I tug my sweats back on and look into the mirror one more time before walking out of the bathroom.

The air is still. I go to the place where I am expecting to find him and that is in the bedroom. I walk through slowly and frown when he is nowhere in sight. As if to answer my thoughts, I hear clattering coming from the kitchen. I see him pouring wine into two glasses when I reach the doorframe. I don't walk in. If I stay in the shadows, he won't notice the makeup straight away.

Peter notices me and waves with the bottle swiftly. "Do you want a drink?"

I stare at him for a while and then nod bashfully. He smirks in response and brings the two glasses to me. I take one off him.

As we drink, I notice his biceps bulging against his shirt. It is almost as if they got bigger in a matter of minutes. My eyes trail down to the belt buckle that seems awfully tight to me. I drink half of the glass before smiling up at him.

"It's a good wine," I say. Peter nods way too enthusiastically before taking my glass from me and putting it on the counter along with his. My lip may be bleeding right now. I grip the bottom of my top tightly and lean against the wall.

I stick by with what Four said to me: You never really lose your fears. I remember the day I was hanging over the chasm in Dauntless. Peter's hand ran under my shirt and groped one of my breasts. That is where it all started. I gulp as I look at him.

"Are you okay?" his voice wakes me up. His eyes burn into mine as he steps closer to my vulnerable body. I don't answer and close my eyes briefly. Suddenly, I feel his warm hands stroking my wrists, "You look like I'm about to murder you."

I let out an idle laugh and step closer to him, wrapping my arms around his torso, "Please, don't." I joke. Peter smirks down at me and kisses the top of my head, taking his time. This never happened with Derek. He was more impatient than Peter is, slamming me against walls and penetrating me whenever he wanted.

"Now I have to go to the bathroom," his breath is hot against my ear. "I need to pee."

Is he doing this on purpose? He walks into the bathroom and I hear the lock click. Well, at least this gives me more time to prepare.

After grabbing the bottle of wine he left on the counter, I sit on the edge of his king sized bed. My thumb presses against the cork and it comes out with a quiet pop. I have about two mouthfuls before I hear the toilet flush. The wine flows down inside my body, heating me up. I love the way it feels when the heat passes my throat.

"Easy on the drink," Peter says behind me, taking the bottle away. My eyes follow his hand. He puts the bottle on the nightstand and sits behind me on the bed. The smile creeps onto my face when I feel him kiss the back of my neck.

Knowing that he can't see my face, I let my emotions be visible. I watch as his hands crawl around my body, biting my lip, "Peter..."

His warmth is welcoming and comforting and I lean back against him, closing my eyes. Peter's mouth lingers on my shoulder as he lets his hand roam freely under my tank top. I feel his long fingers tracing my ribcage and put my hand on top of his. He turns my head slowly before planting a passionate kiss on me. I move my lips against his gratefully, discovering new tastes on his tongue. I gasp when he bites down on my lip.

Okay, Tris. Be brave.

My small body manages to overpower him when I land on top of his chest. I straddle his lap automatically, pushing my tongue against his repetitively. His mouth tastes sour, as if he just sucked on a lemon. I'm probably right in thinking that that is not true.

His hands press against my ass and push me down. My hips slam against his hips beautifully. I hear a low growl at the back of his throat when he starts making me move up and down his pelvis. To be honest, this gets me turned on pretty fast. No wonder Peter likes doing it. After what felt like ten seconds of grinding, I feel the bulge through his pants poking at my area. I moan into his mouth to inform him that I can feel his dick. A groan escapes him.

"Tris," he whispers against my mouth. My face is hot with perspiration. I realize that I am gasping when he pulls away for air. "You are loving this, aren't you?"

Without words, I reply just by eye contact. I haven't stopped grinding against him because I am terrified that he would hit me. I don't need to go into this right now. Just normal sex will do. Peter forces his thumb into my mouth, holding my face with his big hand. Unsure of what to do, I begin to suck on it, trying to be seductive. His eyes darken momentarily.

A longing takes over me. I have never craved it before. Sure, I wanted to be closer to Four when we lost our virginity but it was nothing compared to this.

Peter releases my head and flips us over, pinning me against the mattress. I chuckle nervously partly because I'm nervous and partly because the alcohol has gone to my head. He gives me a serious look before crashing his mouth against mine. I don't bother to put the effort into the kisses anymore. They are rushed and lustful. We both know what will come afterwards.

I gasp into his mouth when I feel cold air on my legs. Then I realise that my sweatpants are off. I have no control now. He had grabbed my ankles and placed my feet on either side of him. I look up at his expression as his eyes scan over my skinny legs. They seem to be more focused on the damp spot on my underwear than anywhere else.

In one swift motion, he peels his shirt off, tossing it over my head. I take advantage of the time I have to survey his body. Strong, pumped chest. Firm looking six pack. And a definite 'V' shape which continues its journey into his pants.

My hands hover by my sides, studying his face to find out what his next move will be. He ducks his head to kiss my left knee. His hands graze my ankles as I arch my back. So, me shaving my legs wasn't in vain then.

I didn't know that he would be the type of guy to explore my body first before fucking it. But he is. Peter is in no rush as he trails one hand up my tank top, reaching my bra. I bite my lip and watch him, placing my hands on my stomach. He kisses the part of my body that is already exposed to the light. I hold my breath as his hands find mine and squeeze them. He grips my hips instead as his mouth continues kissing up to my chest, riding the top up. I pull it over the bumps on my chest with one hand and set it free when it is over my head.

When I realise that he has pushed his hand under me to unclasp my bra, I arch my back to let him. He grabs the front of it and pulls until it is off me. My hands hover over my chest as he stares at my half-naked body. With a grunt, he pins my wrists above my head and I am left helpless, "You're absolutely gorgeous. Don't try to hide it," If I wasn't blushing before then, I definitely am now.

My eyes flutter closed when he attacks my neck and chest with kisses. After he slides his hands down my wrists, I keep them there. Even when he gropes my breasts, my hands are left in that position. If I try to cover up, he might get mad. Like Derek did.

I feel my left boob being sucked on and moan. His mouth is either too big or my breasts are too small. I assume it's the latter. My moans start to sound alien. I'm making that sound because I can't control it, not because I have to. My hands tingle in anticipation and I let them grab Peter's hair. His teeth tug on my nipple and I cry out, caving my body in. He doesn't do it again after witnessing my reaction.

I look past my body and notice a fire in his eyes. Confidently, he loops his fingers under the waistband of my panties and tugs them off, so slowly it hurts. I buckle my hips as he leans his face down to my area. Shit. I watch his eyes until half of his face disappears. My head is thrown back when his lips connect with my clit.

It takes him a while to find the right position, but then he slides his tongue over my slit and I take this as a sign that I should rest my legs on his shoulders. So I do. He thrusts his face into my womanhood. I whimper and grip his hair again, squeezing my eyes shut. He quickly identifies what I like and dislike before eating me out.

"Peter, don't stop," I sigh. I receive a glance from him when I open my eyes again.

In the quiet room, I hear the sucking noises he is making, which seem to be bringing me closer to the edge. As I am about to reach my climax, he pulls away with a grin on his face. I groan in frustration and lower my hips, letting him crawl on top of me. His lips glisten with my moisture. Before I can object, he kisses me again, spreading my taste into my own mouth.

"You're not coming without me," he whispers. I plant a kiss on his bottom lip when I hear the sound of the zipper. His pants are off within seconds. I assume that his boxers are too because I feel his hard cock grazing against my stomach. My curiosity takes over and I reach down to touch it. It is surprisingly wet and unsurprisingly hard.

"You're so big," I say. My hand grips his penis tighter and starts moving up and down slowly. He seems to like it as he rests his forehead on mine. I feel my heartbeat pounding in my chest. Peter gazes into my eyes and I gaze back, but when it feels like a long time of staring, I smile slightly. He smirks back.

"Okay," he whispers as he detaches my hand from his length. Out of nowhere I realise that I am more confident and decide to glance down at where he rests on my stomach. How is he even going to fit it in? His chest presses into my face when he reaches out to grab a small packet. As he tears it open, I catch the scent of artificial matter in the air.

The process of putting a condom on seems pretty easy to be. I have never done it before to anyone. It is always the guy who takes over when it gets to that part. When it is on, I lay my head on the pillow, running my hands down his muscular chest. Peter smiles warmly at me and kisses my forehead.

A moan escapes me when his finger slides into me without warning. It stings at first. I hope I don't get put off before intercourse. That has happened before, and evidently I did not enjoy it. He struggles to insert a second finger into me and I bite my lip.

"Don't rush," I gasp, raising my hips upwards. Eventually, his two fingers move confidently in and out of me, evicting small peeps from my mouth.

I didn't realise until now just how lucky I am. A nude (and hot) guy is lying on top of me, being as gentle as he can not to remind me of my bad experiences. I widen my eyes when his forehead starts to become moist and reach up to brush my hand along it. For once, I actually want this. I was not hustled into the decision and I feel comfortable with Peter. Wait… does this mean that I trust him? I think so. I watch his eyes become wild as he scans them along my face.

"Please," I gasp, feeling myself expanding for him.

"What? What do you want?" his voice is gentle. I actually want him to be more aggressive with me, like he was during initiation.

"I want you," I whimper. His thumb rubs my clit as he buries his two fingers deep inside me. I groan quietly when he doesn't do anything.

"You want me to do what?" he leans down and starts nibbling on my ear. Why did I wait this long? Now the torture is becoming unbearable.

"Peter!" I exclaim, buckling my hips.

"Tell me what you want, babe," I shiver volts through me at the new nickname. I feel his smile against my ear.

"I-I want," an inhuman moan, followed by panting, "I want you to fuck me."

By my orders, he takes his fingers out of me and I feel empty… until they are replaced with his dick. That is the fullest I have ever felt. Holy shit.

I try to gasp his name as he starts pounding into me, all the air leaving my body. An animalistic groan vibrates against my collarbone when I arch my back. All I want is for him to be as close to me as possible, so I wrap my arms around his neck, making sure that his lips never leave the upper part of my body.

One of his hands goes above my head, gripping the headboard with so much force that I hear it squeaking. His groaning turns me on even more. It's different from any other noise Derek or Tobias made. It fills me with confidence, pride and satisfaction.

"Oh, God," he moans into my neck.

I let out a nervous laugh before he kneads my breast with one hand, leaning down to kiss it.

I try to hold on longer, to savour the feeling of an approaching climax. All stimuli start turning me on: The sound of skin slapping against skin; the feeling on his pelvic bone crashing against my clit; the way he grips one of my ankles and bends my leg, pushing down on it; the musty smell on his hair in my face and finally his growling.

I am not ashamed when I squeal against his shoulder. He seems to be encouraging it anyway. Why should I hold back? At last, I reach the edge but this time he doesn't stop the feeling from swallowing me completely. I bite down on his neck as my muscles clench around his throbbing penis. Peter forces his mouth onto mine as I come, mumbling something I can't quite register.

My insides pulse around his cock as he continues to move.

Suddenly I realise what he was trying to tell me: "I am not even done yet."

When he stills inside me, I let my body relax. I try to conceal my smile by chewing on my lip after I hear him moaning my name.

We lay together afterwards. He traces patterns on my bare back with his fingers as I listen to his heartbeat. It is quiet now, compared to what it sounded like a couple of minutes ago. I am not tired. So I don't go to sleep.

I lift my head to look at him and smile. He was staring at me this entire time.

**Thank you for all your reviews :) Tell me what you think of this one.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Just a reminder that the updates will not be everyday for the next two weeks. But I will be trying to update as much as I can :3**

"How did you wind up with that guy anyway?" Peter asks. I let my smile fade slightly.

"You want me to tell you the story?" my voice is close enough to a whisper, like I have a big secret to hide. His fingers run up and down my wrist that is lying on his chest.

"Yeah," he says, "I'm very curious." I watch his eyes for a second before sighing and clearing my throat.

"Okay, um," I start, "After I went back to Chicago, I saw that many people started acknowledging me."

"Was he a super fan?" Peter jokes. I roll my eyes and chuckle.

"I guess," I shrug, "Anyway, I met Derek when I went to the apartment renting bureau. He told me he would buy an apartment for me. As if to reward me on winning the war-"

"He bought you an apartment?" Peter exclaims, jealousy in his voice.

"Yeah, but let me finish," I clear my throat again and start stroking his chest, "I thought it was a massive gesture so I was like no thanks…" I pause, contemplating whether I should go into details. I decide on a no, "Anyway, he took me out to dinner and showered me with gifts. Obviously, I thought that I was very lucky to have him. Being treated the way I was. And when I realized that I had nothing to lose, I asked him out." I shrug.

Peter stares at me for a second before squeezing my elbow slightly. "Wait, so you asked him out?"

"Yeah, I was desperate," I smile pathetically. He seems to accept it and nods.

"So how did you find out that he was a scumbag?" His eyes turn darker.

"When he took all the money… and started ordering me around," I search his eyes for pity, and I find a lot.

"Then he kicked you out?"

"When he signed the apartment to his name, he claimed it… and then yeah, he kicked me out." I run my hand towards his face, playing with his earlobe.

"How did you get hold of all that money?" he asks.

"The people, the government…" I trail off, biting my lip. He nods in acceptance and pulls me closer to him, hugging my body tightly.

"It's going to be okay now," he whispers, "I'd never do that to you." His warm lips press into my forehead.

"And yet, you tried to kill me," I joke. When he doesn't reply, I look up and into his eyes. He seems to be scowling at me. I feel my heartbeat quicken.

"That's not funny," he says, "You don't know how much I regret that." I look down at his chest and plant a kiss on it.

"I was joking-"

"Well, don't." And there went the moment.

I let out a guilty sigh and keep my arm draped around him, afraid that he would get up and leave. My face heats up as the silence becomes louder. I swallow quietly. Please say something first.

His hand becomes blunter on my back as he pats my skin instead of caressing it. I glance up at his face to see that his eyes are closed. "Peter?"

"Hmm?" he replies way too quickly. My shoulders slump. He opens his eyes to look down at me before averting them in the direction of the door.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, regretting how weak my voice is. He turns back to look at me and offers a small smile.

"Don't be."

We carry on talking into the night before he abruptly starts a new topic. "Ready for round two?"

I smile widely at him. "The question is… are you ready?" He replies with a chuckle. Without warming, I straddle his lap and straighten my back, looking down at him through the darkness. His eyes are the only bright source in the night.

Peter slides on contraception before grasping my hips and lowering me onto his manhood. A familiar sting appears below my waist before vanishing when I start moving. I place my hands on Peter's chest as we start making love for the first time. For me, it is definitely the first time. I don't know about him. My hips meet his gently when I come down and he goes up. Eventually, we find a comfortable rhythm and I ride him lovingly.

We aren't as loud as we were the first time, probably because we got tired out easily. It is nice to be able to slow down for a while.

I gasp loudly when a loud knock on the door interrupts our passionate session. I feel myself jump, but Peter holds me in place and shakes his head, whispering: "Just keep going."

So I do. Until the knocking becomes more urgent and violent and we both realise that the person is not going to go away. Peter sighs in irritation and squeezes both of my hips before sitting up. I roll off him and pull the covers over my chest as he puts on his boxers and crawls over to me.

"Wait here," he pecks my lips. "I'll be right back."

I lay back with a hand behind my head, letting myself drift off to sleep. I jump awake again at the sound of men's voices in the kitchen. Curiously, I jump out of bed and put Peter's shirt on before tip-toeing over to the door frame. The material is long enough to cover my ass even if I bend down, so I guess it will do.

I peek around the door and see a huge man with folded arms nodding as Peter talks. He looks familiar although I don't recall interacting with him. Peter is wearing his black robe now, hiding his half-naked body. I walk closer to the kitchen and stop in my tracks when the guy notices me. He gives me a small smile as his eyes dance around my bare legs. Peter emerges from the room and gives me a worried look.

"Babe, go back to bed," he whispers, so that only I can hear.

"What, no… who is that?" I rub one of my eyes, receiving a disappointed look from Peter.

"Let her in." The man's voice is deep. I take my time to look over Peter's shoulder, observing the dark tattoos on his dark skin. Peter wraps a fluffy bath robe around me before tying it around my waist. I let him lead me by the hand into the kitchen where the man (whose name turns out to be Al) greets me. I mutter a response sleepily as Peter sits me down on one of the dining chairs. Why does he look so paranoid?

"You must be Tris," his voice is calm and collected, unlike the ink on his arms. I nod at him before glancing at Peter for comfort. He stands close to me as they continue their conversation.

"Cut back to the chase," Peter says. "What did you want to tell me?"

"The rebels," my heart leaps into my mouth. "I know where they are. We just need a team to take them out."

A team.

"You have people at the security centre," Peter responds.

"That is not enough." Al grumbles. Must his name be so familiar?

"There are about thirty people there. Why do we need more?" Peter folds his arms.

"They have thousands." I know what this is all about. Dread washes over me in an instant.

A war. No, this can't be. Not another war. I get up from my chair and turn to leave, but Peter grabs my wrist. "Tris, wait."

"Don't touch me," I turn to him, "You can't be agreeing to this, right? Please tell me you will not sacrifice other people for this meaningless conflict."

"It isn't meaningless," Al interrupts. "They have an army."

"I don't care, I won't participate in this-"

"Nobody is asking you to participate!" His yell makes me clench my fists. Peter stands in front of me protectively. "This is all to protect you. There are people willing to sacrifice themselves to defend the hero of their city." His voice calms down. I wrap my arms around Peter's wrist slowly and look down, as if I am being scolded by my dad.

"How many people do you need?" Peter asks quietly. I glare up at him before pressing my face into his chest.

If I died, none of this would be happening. It is my entire fault. But a voice in the back of my mind, whispers to me: Peter is the one who saved you.

And who made him do it?

Tobias.

Oh, Four. If only you were here.

**Please review :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**For the people who thought the new character 'Al' was the Al who died in Divergent, he isn't. It is just a guy who shares the name with him. They are in no shape or form related. The Al from Divergent is dead.**

**I hope you like this one :)**

I can't blame anybody for this. It is my own fault. I am the one the rebels are looking for. I will be the one to start another war. I can't help but feel that if I turn myself in, I could save thousands of lives. Or at least one: Peter.

He closes the front door when Al leaves. I stand behind him, watching as he locks it and turns around to face me. Dread crosses his face for a second.

"Before you start yelling, can you please understand that I am only doing this because I love you?" Apparently, Peter agreed to collect and herd the men who are willing to fight back to the rebels. So what is that? About a hundred lives gone already? I frown at him and lean against a wall.

"I don't want to be the reason for another war," I say. "We can talk to them. Make them understand what it is they are about to do."

"You sound like the Amity," he spits. That is one faction I have never been able to live up to until now. "You're being naive. Those people will not stop until they get to you, and I want to protect you."

"I know what you're trying to say," I utter, "But there has to be another way out of this."

"There isn't." As he steps closer, he unties my robe and allows it to pool around my ankles on the floor. "Al says that you are safe. There will be at least two guards near here... and they know how to use cameras and..." he sighs, taking my hands in his, "You'll be fine, Tris. We don't even have to do anything. We just wait until it is over. It's not even a war."

I smile at him slightly and press my face against his chest. They gave Peter time off work so he could be near me. Maybe he is right. There is no way to predict what the rebels are going to do, but it is close to certain that they won't attack innocent people. They are after me. And I am safe.

"Do you want to go back to bed?" his voice makes me grin. I nod and lead him into the bedroom, where he discards his robe to the floor.

I crawl into bed and giggle when Peter tickles me from behind. I turn so that I am facing him. The sheets turned cold from our absence.

"I'm still wearing the condom, you know," Peter informs me. Under the covers he takes off his boxers, which I see flying through the air later.

"Maybe we can finish what we started then," I barely finish the sentence before he starts kissing me. I climb on top of his again and slide myself down onto his already erect member. He doesn't bother taking off my shirt.

I ride him until I can't control the feeling that has been building up inside of me. Peter squeezes my ass with both hands when I reach the edge, moaning his name. He watches me in fascination as I take fistfuls of bed sheets near his head, slamming my hips against his.

"Come for me," he whispers before reaching his orgasm.

We wake in unison that morning, stretching and groaning together like cats. I smile up at his sleepy face, darting towards him to be the first one of us to kiss another. He chuckles against my lips, enveloping me in his arms. I pull away to watch his face come to life.

"Hey, gorgeous," he mutters.

"You have to stop calling me that," I raise my eyebrows as he shakes his head at me.

"No, that's your new nickname, gorgeous," he flips us over, making me squeal in surprise, "What do you want for breakfast? I'll give you anything,"

I laugh at his gentleman approach. The last thing I want is for him to become whipped, or change for me in any way. "I'll make it myself," I say. He starts kissing my body through the fabric, shaking his head and muttering negative connotations.

"I'll make the breakfast," his lips reach my face and I laugh as he starts kissing all over it. For a second, I am able to forget about what happened yesterday. But eventually my laughter dies out and I kiss him slowly.

"Okay," I say. It makes Peter give me a worried look. I smile to assure him that nothing is wrong and he buys it.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to prepare the food. He insisted that I wait in bed for the "best breakfast of my life". In the end, he brought me a bowl of cereal and a banana, claiming that he burned the bacon he was making. I ate it gratefully as he watched.

"Done?" I nod, letting him take the tray away from me and put it on the coffee table. I swallow my last mouthful before asking.

"Aren't you going to eat?" His smile ignites all the burned out candles in my soul.

"I'll bring us snacks. We're staying in bed all day," he says, turning around to go back to the kitchen.

"All day?" I call after him. I don't believe him at first but when he brings a bag full of cakes, soft drinks and potato chips, I begin to get giddy. He places the bag near the bed before jumping on top of me, making me shriek with laughter.

"I don't have work... and we better stay indoors for a while due to the circumstances," he rests his head on my stomach, "Also, we discovered this new hobby that I am sure we will both enjoy." I smirk widely as he winks at me slyly, "So let's stay in bed."

He leans over me to grab what looks like a remote and presses a small button, making the room fill up with soulful music. I put my finger to my mouth and bite down on it when he joins me under the covers. I could really get used to this.

I lean against him when he wraps an arm around me. "You got your food, you got your music, you got your Peter," I continue to giggle at his joyful attitude, "All you have to do is tell me when you're horny, I'll be there." His hand squeezes the inside of my thigh and I roll my eyes, shoving his chest.

"What's gotten into you?" This makes him laugh against my ear.

"I love you, Tris," he whispers as he kisses my temple. I melt in his embrace and close my eyes.

"I love you too," I whisper back, as if it is a secret. This is the first time we exchanged our 'I love yous'. It feels strange to say it, to Peter of all people. I shuffle closer to him and wrap my arms around his torso, causing him to sigh with happiness.

We listen to the soft music for a while, not talking. He starts stroking my back and I kiss his chest. I feel the familiar wetness circle my womanhood as I start getting flashbacks from last night. He was so good at it. Better than anyone I have ever been with. Before I can stop myself, I lean up to kiss him on the mouth. He responds enthusiastically, running his hands under my shirt as I straddle his lap. I feel him smirking.

"Does Princess Prior want something from me?" he mutters in between our kisses. I giggle and furrow my eyebrows.

"Don't call me that, Peter," I whisper, "Ever."

I moan as his hand slide down to grip my butt. My shirt rides up as his hands explore my body, stopping at my breasts. I give him a smirk before starting to rub my wetness over his member. With one hand, he reaches for a condom and slides it on before letting me continue with what I was about to do.

I watch his face grow more serious when I slide myself down onto him. He grabs a thick strand of my hair and pulls down on it until his hand reaches the tips of my shoulder-length locks. I gasp when his dick fills me up completely and rush to grab his face and kiss him. We make out passionately, never stopping the movement of our hips; even when he flips us over.

Peter's low groan fills the room when he tugs the shirt off me violently. I don't care. He can be as rough as he wants to be. I moan as his lips attack my stomach, then my chest, then my neck. He bites and licks and sucks and all of these things seem to be bringing me closer to the edge.

I watch his mouth form the words, but never saying them out loud. My head hangs off the edge of the bed as he thrusts in and out of me. All the blood rushes to my brain, but then he starts supporting me with his hand.

"Harder." Harder. Faster. Please.

I throw my head back against his hand when the orgasm takes over my body. It rushes through my veins, clenching my muscles against my will. Peter follows shortly after that, breathing my name in desperate gasps. I groan as he collapses on top of me, burying his face into my chest.

After he regains control over his body, he pulls me into the middle of the bed, sliding out of me smoothly.

"You're so fucking amazing." Closing my eyes, I let out a half-hearted laugh. Peter kisses all over my stomach; nibbling on my hip bone and making me twitch in surprise. I tangle my fingers in his hair as his hot breath breezes past my bellybutton.

I close my eyes, letting the soft mattress swallow me. I have never been so comfortable in from of a guy in my life. I realize that I don't care if his eyes are on me. I trust him. And I want him to see me for all that I am and will be.

**A lot of plot twists coming up in the story. Don't stop reading :) Please review 3**


	13. Chapter 13

**Woah, a chapter the next day too?! Lucky you xD I wanted to leave the story on a cliffhanger until I next ipdate, so you can hate me ;) Here it is:  
**

Nine sex positions later, I am lying on my front, near the end of the bed. Peter is parallel to me, his hot breath skimming my lower back. He is panting.

"I think I am hungry now," I manage to speak, opening my eyes when his head lifts off my back.

"So am I," he whispers, sitting up. I only move when he nudges me. I roll over to smile at his tired face. I let Peter position me on the bed, so that I am sitting up near the headboard, the thin sheets covering my body.

"What's for dinner?" I ask as I watch him fishing through the bag of food, flashing his ass at me. I giggle and throw my head back.

"Here," he speaks. I feel something landing on my stomach and look down. A pack of potato chips. He tosses some dip next to me along with two cans of beer as I open the packet.

"Oh, god, you must have gone through so much preparing this," I joke. He joins my side under the covers.

"I did. Don't you dare criticize my cooking," he pecks my cheek before dipping his hand into the packet and taking out a handful of chips. I mirror his actions.

We sit there for a while, eating silently. I dip my food into the spicy sauce when Peter opens the jar for me. This is perfect. I would rather have this everyday than go out to restaurants and dress up. He knows me well. Plus, we share the same trait of laziness.

I hear the crack and the fizz when Peter opens his drink and sips it. Glancing at him, I smirk. He notices me looking and smirks back before opening my can for me.

"Wow, thank you," I giggle before sipping the cold beer.

Peter tosses the now empty packet off the bed, finishing his drink. I gulp mine slowly as he clears the bed from crumbs by brushing his hand across it.

Then I remember Fiona's clothes. I look at the closet door before asking: "Why are Fiona's clothes still here?" Peter gives me a long look before draping his arm around me and pulling me closer. He takes his time in replying.

"What do you mean?" I roll my eyes, getting impatient.

"I mean, if she doesn't live here anymore, why didn't you give her clothes away?" He avoids my gaze before smiling down at me warmly.

"They're not my clothes, I can't give them away," his voice is quiet. Why is he avoiding answering my question? My face flushes slightly and I clear my throat, looking up at him.

"You know what I mean, Peter," I say. Something crosses his face, making me grow more uncomfortable. What is he hiding? He takes my hand in his and intertwines our fingers, brushing the top of my hand with his thumb.

"I'll tell you," he starts, "Just promise me that you won't freak out." The atmosphere turns more suspicious and I glance down at our hands, weighing my options. I plant my eyes back on his face when I realize that I need to know the truth.

"You can tell me," I say quietly, making it seem like there is a massive secret shared between us. Peter sighs and kisses my forehead slowly before pulling away to look at me.

"She went to work out of town before I found you on the road," he clears his throat, "Fiona didn't leave forever, she will come back at some point…" Horror crosses my face as I take time to register what he just said.

"Wait, what?" I pull away slightly to take a better look at his face. He keeps his eyes on his lap, glancing at me only briefly, "You're still with her?"

"No! Well… yes, but-", grabbing his arm from behind me, I throw it at his chest as I sit up. He has a girlfriend. He has a girlfriend. The truth cuts deeper through me, forcing me to gasp in disbelief and shake my head.

"What the fuck," I whisper, grabbing my underwear from the floor. As expected, I feel his hand on my back, trying to make me turn around.

"Please, don't jump to conclusions. I didn't tell you everything yet." I cover my face with my hand for a moment before turning back to him. The sheets are pressed tightly against my chest.

"Yeah? Then tell me," I spit, watching his expression soften.

"I caught her cheating on me. I was going to break up with her before she left," he explains calmly, rubbing my back. I slap his hand away angrily. I can't believe this.

"That doesn't make it better! You are cheating on her!" I let out my anger through the dialogue, but it doesn't seem to be making me feel better.

"Tris, calm down," his voice is small in comparison to mine. I shake off whatever he is saying to me as I clasp my bra. I have been used all this time. Hot tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I finish putting on my clothes. Suddenly, his strong hand grips my wrist and pulls me towards him.

"Don't touch me!" I cry out, looking down at my feet. Peter is wearing his boxers, "I thought I could trust you," I feel my face become wetter. He cups my face with one hand, spreading my tears down on his palm.

"Listen to me," he says, his voice rising in order to make me hear him through my sobs, "I should have told you before I let it go this far-"

I decide that I don't want to hear another word he has to say. I can't let history repeat itself. I need to get out of here before he hurts me more. I struggle against his grip, whining when he wraps his arms around me tightly.

"Goddamn it, listen to me!" I am pressed against a wall, fighting for freedom. His face becomes angrier, and immediately I scowl down at the floor, "I'm sorry for not telling you! I caught her cheating on me so I thought it would be okay for me to do the same if we ever got this close."

There he goes with his logic again. An eye for an eye. When I saved him in the Amity compound, he repaid his debt by keeping me alive in Erudite. And now a year later, he thinks it is acceptable for him to cheat on his girlfriend just because she cheated on him. I don't get it. I stop crying after listening to his empty words that are doing him no favor.

"I will break up with her, Tris," he says, wiping my face with his fingers, "Once she comes back, I will do it."

"What, you expect me to go through this? You want me to be okay while I wait for your girlfriend to get back home? It's nice of you to let me meet her, really." My voice is dripping in sarcasm. I shove at his chest for him to take a step back, "I only just started trusting you, why would you do this?"

He steps closer to me and I let him. I put my hands on his chest when he embraces me romantically. A part of me wants to push him away, and the other part wants me to forgive him. How can I forgive him? How can I trust him ever again? He has been keeping this horrible secret from me all this time.

"I'm sorry, I love you. I'm so so sorry. I love you so much," he repeats over and over again until the words start to sound like a made up language. I am tempted to grip him shirt for support, but I realize that he isn't wearing one, so I place my hands on his shoulders instead.

"Leave me alone, please," I plead. He unhands me immediately, giving me space. At least he understands that I need it. I walk over to the large window and stare at the buildings in the distance. I try to tell myself that there are bigger problems here. Is there going to be a war? I press my face against the glass and close my eyes.

Suddenly, I hear the front door slam and turn around in panic. Peter is gone. I look at the tangles sheets on the bed and notice that his clothes are gone too. He is doing well so far.

I sit down on a chair and try to think the whole situation through. Fiona cheated on him. That doesn't give him the authority to get revenge in the same way… right? I start thinking from his perspective and close my eyes. What would I do? A wave of regret flushes through me when I realize that I would have done the same. Preserve the secret. Does that make me a bad person? Or the equivalent to Peter?

What would Four think of me? He wanted Peter to protect me, to save my life.

Maybe I should let him.

**Please review and tell me what you think :P I love hearing from you guys.  
**


	14. Chapter 14

Where did he go? I understand that we had an argument, but was it necessary to go into the streets swarming with rebels? They know who Peter is and they will try to take him out. I bite my lip as I think of the scenario:

Peter walks down the street.

Somebody shoots him.

His body falls down.

It gets dragged away into the shadows.

I shiver at the thought and wrap my arms around myself. I watch children pass in the streets below me, laughing and running after each other. I smile slightly as the father picks the little boy up and into his arms. That could have been me and Tobias. We talked about the future just before the attack. His words echo in my head: _"When I come back we will figure this out. We'll have a small apartment in Chicago. We will figure everything out. We're okay, me and you." _I kissed him passionately after that.

I smile sadly at the memory before starting to cry again. I inhale and shake once I realize the sobs that are to come will be uncontrollable. I put a hand over my mouth when I hear the front door open and silence my cries. I grip my wrist so hard that my knuckles turn while. My eyes stick on the passing cars below me when the footsteps come closer to me.

Should I forgive him?

A big hand rests on my back and I stand up slowly, pressing my face against the glass. There is the sound of a plastic bag landing on the floor behind me, which causes me to glance in the direction. Before I have the chance to take a good look, a black box appears in front of me, held by Peter's hand. I turn around to face him and take the small box. He speaks first.

"Open it," he says. I offer him a timid smile before lifting the lid off slowly. The first thing I see is the small, black Dauntless symbol made out of metal. My eyes run across to the skinny, black chain and I realize that it is a necklace. I smile down at it before releasing the chain from the soft cushion it rests on, "Let me."

Peter takes the necklace from my hands and turns me around. I close my eyes when I feel the cold chain securing itself around my neck. I turn back around and look up at him. He looks like he is afraid to smile, waiting for me to turn soft. "Thank you."

He smirks when I speak and wraps his arms around me, releasing the deepest sigh in human history. I let him plant kisses on my shoulder. My hand runs between us and presses against the symbol on my chest. This is who I am: Dauntless.

Peter steps away slowly, observing my reaction. I don't so much react as respond, "What's in the bag?" I ask softly. Immediately, he picks it up and takes out three bars of chocolate. I stare at the rectangles before looking up at him, "Chocolate?"

"Women love chocolate," his eyebrows furrow as he puts the bag down, tossing the treats back in. I smirk to myself. Typical Peter.

His hands sink into his pockets as he frowns at the floor. I feel sorry for him. He was cheated on first. I don't think he loved Fiona if he was ready to do this to her. However, I like the atmosphere between us at the moment, so I don't start questioning him. Instead, I fold my arms and stare at his face until he looks up at me.

"Promise me, no more secrets," my tone is serious, with a hint of anger. I sound like Four. His eyes light up instantly, but he conceals his smile.

"I promise. I swear... I would never-"

"Okay," I silence him, before he gets too excited. I witness as the twinkle in his eyes spreads all over his face, bestowing a beam. Automatically, I smile back and hug him when he throws his arms around me, lifting me into the air. I close my eyes as he starts rubbing my back reassuringly, "Do you understand that what you did was wrong?" Sometimes the only way to talk to Peter is to talk to him like a child. Step by step, slowly he starts understanding the matter.

"I know, I'm so sorry," he whispers.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to her," I say.

"I will, I promise," he concludes. And that is how you resolve a conflict.

Even though Peter said we would be in bed all day, we ended up on the living room couch. I am half asleep. Peter is probably snoozing. His chest lifts me up and down slowly as he breathes. I open my eyes slightly to see what all the noise is about on the TV screen. It is some kind of documentary about fish. I yawn quietly.

It's fortunate that Peter was smart enough to not make a move on me. It would be awkward trying to reject him. He kept his hands off my intimate places. He even looked down at his feet when I brushed past him in the kitchen. Good. This is his punishment.

Currently, his hands are resting on my back and not moving; another sign that he must be asleep.

Peter groans louder than usual and shifts under me. I grin and look up at his face. Must be some kind of dream. We stay like this for what feels like forever. Suddenly, he twitches under me. I decide to stay still and pretend to be sleeping. His hands lift up for a couple of seconds before he rests them on my back again and sighs. His breathing becomes more urgent and I know that he is awake. I keep still, knowing that he won't try to wake me if I was asleep. One of his hands starts to roam around my body until he rests it on my shoulder.

I realize that I have already forgiven him. How is it that my inner Amity is stronger than my inner Dauntless? I remember when I didn't want to be Divergent. I caused the deaths of thousands of people. Bravery is overrated. But I have to be brave. For Peter and for the soldiers. Otherwise the necklace means nothing.

**Please review :) **


	15. Chapter 15

**I was way too excited and I had to post this chapter today. Two days in a row ;) Tell me what you think of this one in the reviews :)**

A week later, there was a knock on our door. Al came over to update us on the latest news of the rebels. Apparently, most of them have fled the city, so we have more freedom and can actually go outside without worrying. Obviously, Peter and I took advantage of that without second thought and went out for a meal at a place called Prior's. Yes. Prior's. All the money goes to me. But since Derek has my credit card, he gets it instead.

Al doesn't know much about what the rebels are planning but he said that if they ever found me, they would capture me first. And then the conversation went onto something about a live execution; to broadcast on live TV in front of the whole city. It's a good plan, but they have to find me first. Peter is more worried about that than I am. Death doesn't scare me. Killing people does.

Out of respect for the soldiers, Peter invited some of them to dinner at his apartment. They were kind enough to buy us another glass table. I lean against the kitchen counter as I watch the men speak among themselves. Peter chats with Al at the end of the table, laughing about something.

"Tris, have you tried these yet?" The skinniest guy asks, holding up what looks like a pastry roll. The mini get together inspired Peter to cook. I assure you, when he tries, he is really good.

"No, I haven't," I answer, taking the roll from him. I bite into it when they resume their conversation. The spicy vegetables inside the roll make my tongue swell up. I smile to myself as I lick my fingers. His cooking is perfect.

"S'down, s'down, why are you stood there?" A man pulls out a chair for me and I sit slowly. I am acquainted to a guy who's name is Nick. He works for Al. His muscles show it. I straighten my back when he rests his arm on the back of my chair.

"It's a nice place you guys have here," he purrs in a seductive tone. I offer a grin and nod, glancing at Peter.

"Yeah, it's okay," I reply. I am no good at small talk. Peter's eyes meet mine across the room and I smile widely at him. He smiles back, biting his lip when he sees Nick's arm around me. It is friendly, I am sure.

Things have been really good between me and Peter over the past week. The whole extravaganza about Fiona fades out gradually. He promised me that he will break up with her as soon as she comes and has already prepared some money for her to live off with. She won't have any trouble finding a place to live. She earns a shitload of cash.

Keeping my pride, I obviously didn't let him have sex with me. He hasn't tried to make a move on me in any shape or form and I am grateful. We are both waiting for the moment when we can both trust each other.

"Babe," his voice pulls me away from my thoughts. Nick takes his arm back when Peter wraps his arms from behind me and kisses my shoulder. We receive a few 'woos' and I roll my eyes at the crowd. Peter pulls away, kissing the top of my head. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," I press my lips against his before he leaves the kitchen. And there I am. The only female, surrounded by a herd of men who are wearing black uniform, all hungry from their latest shift.

I feel Nick's eyes on me again and try to distract myself by grabbing a plate and placing some food on it. I cut through the steak and pop the piece of meat into my mouth. Most of the conversations seem to be about me. I hear my name being said not far from me and resist the urge to glance up.

"Are you scared of the rebels, Tris?" Nick blurts out. I look up at him and smile bashfully. His golden hair glistens in the light.

"No," I say, eating my meal.

"We wish we were half as brave as you," Nick states, leaning in to take a better look at my face. I watch him and shake my head in defence.

"I'm not brave," I deny.

"Yes, you are," another man jumps in, "You're not afraid of anything." The man talking looks constipated. I try to tear my mind off trying to judge him and simply smile.

"I don't know," I stutter. To my relief, Peter walks back into the kitchen and takes a seat next to me. I relax as he starts a new topic, making sure to exclude me from it.

I put my knife and fork down before leaning against him. He wraps his arm around me and pecks my head quickly, staring at Nick who engages him in a discussion. I don't bother listening to what it is about and close my eyes.

"Thank you for the meal," Al speaks on behalf of everyone at the front door when they are about to leave. I watch the men put their jackets back on and step out of the apartment.

"Our pleasure," Peter speaks, keeping his arms around me from behind. Nick brushes past me and I know that it is on purpose. I hope Peter didn't notice. I give him a smile when he winks and walks out of the door.

Peter lets me go and shuts the front door after saying goodbye and even giving one guy an inside handshake only they know. I step back and watch his expression. He smiles at me and sighs.

"Well, that was fun," he says, "I'll go clean up the table."

"I'll help you," I follow him into the kitchen. After receiving curious glances from Peter, I fold my arms and smirk at him, "What?"

He puts the remaining plates into the sink and shrugs one shoulder, "Nothing."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I use a damp cloth to wipe the table when it is clear of any cutlery.

"Can't I look at my girlfriend?" he smirks at me as he turns the tap on. I roll my eyes and walk over to him, tossing the cloth near the sink. It is dark outside, and the gathering probably carried on past midnight. I lean over the sink to switch the tap off.

"What's bothering you?" I accept his embrace. My hands cup his face, stroking his cheeks with my thumbs gently.

"Did you find Nick attractive?" he blurts out, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Are you kidding?" I let out a laugh, sliding my hands down to his shoulders, "No, why would I?"

"Just asking," He clears his throat, "He seemed to be really fond of you though." I sense jealousy in his voice and my face softens.

"Peter, you were the most attractive man in the room," I peck his lips slowly, "Don't worry."

Of course, it is more than likely for Peter to start a fight if he finds another man checking out his girlfriend. He is just that kind of person. The sooner I assure him that there is nothing going on, the better.

"Do you think the rebels are capable of overturning the government?" I ask casually, taking a rag in my hand. Peter turns the tap on again, starting to wash up the dishes.

"Yeah, I think it's possible," he murmurs, glancing at me, "But they won't. Our team is way stronger," he assures me. I smile and nod, watching the water wash away the food on the plates.

"Yeah, I know," my voice is barely a whisper. I don't know whether they will start murdering people to get to me. I can't be sure of anything at this point. All I have to do is rely on Al to update us. And if the rebels start rising again, we fight back.

"Ready to go to bed?" I wrap my arms around Peter once he dries his hands. I nod a reply as he starts running a hand up and down my back, "Come on then."

I shut the kitchen door after I turn the lights off. We walk along the dark corridor and don't bother turning on the lights once we reach the bedroom. I strip off my clothes near the wardrobe and Peter does the same near the bed. Once I am only wearing black panties, I crawl onto my side of the bed and giggle as Peter grabs me from behind.

Everything escalates quickly and we end up having a full on make-out session. I don't stop his hands from exploring my chest and tugging on my skin. Shortly, his manhood pokes at my thighs and I laugh into his mouth.

"Tris," he whispers against my lips. I know what he wants because I want it too. I peel off my underwear as he sucks on my neck.

For the first time in seven days, we end up making love.

**Please give me feedback in the reviews :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Let's kick things off in this chapter, shall we? ;) I have seriously been having trouble with the whole "stretching the updates out over the week". I am sure you guys won't mind, right? ;) I have been working on chapters 17 and 18 like an I don't know what. I am way too excited with the future of this story. **

**Also, some of you have been requesting a fanfic from Peter's point of view, which will follow the exact same story as this one. To be honest, I really want to do it xD but it will have to be after this fanfic is complete.**

**I will think about it more after my exams are over in May. For now, enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for all of the reviews I have been getting. So happy you are hyped about this story.**

I should feel guilty but I don't. Having sex with Peter is the most rewarding thing in the world. Yes, he still has a girlfriend, and yes I shouldn't be screwing him while he is in a relationship, but let's just take a step back. It _is_ Fiona's fault for not calling up. And she _did_ start the whole cheating thing. I hate her more than I hate David, even though I haven't met her yet. Deep down, I know that this is a bad thing to be doing. But I am simply too selfish to let Peter go. I am selfish.

I keep trying to tell myself that this is not the biggest problem we have, but it still doesn't feel right.

I watch him sleep for a while, not daring to run my fingers up his face in case he wakes up. He looks peaceful. His messy black hair is starting to grow out. I smirk as I run my hand through it gently. Looking down below his neck, I see thing that I haven't noticed before. For example, he has chest hair. Not a lot of chest hair, like you would expect a 40-year old man to have. But enough to make him even sexier to me. Absent-mindlessly, I trace a hand down the small bush, enjoying the feeling of it tickling the tips of my fingers.

Peter groans, bringing me back to reality. I glance up at him and see a troubled look on his face as he stretches. Soon enough, he notices me and smiles, "Morning."

"Hey, you," I whisper, leaning up to place a kiss on his lips. He kisses me back gratefully before opening his eyes.

"What are the plans for today then?" his hand busies itself with squeezing my shoulder, pulling on some of my hair.

"How about..." I think for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, "We could either stay in all day," I receive a playful smirk, "or we could take a stroll around the city, or-" He doesn't let me finish.

"I would love to stay in all day," I am pulled on top of him, feeling his lips on my neck, "but I think we could use some fresh air."

I giggle when I feel his hands running along my bare back. The heat of his skin against mine is almost too much and I wrap my arms around him clumsily. He doesn't object and holds onto me tighter.

"So we're going outside," I say. His fingernails dig into my back and drag on for a while, making me moan.

"Not yet," Peter rubs the possible red trails he left on my back with his hands. I smile, closing my eyes again. I wish we could stay like this forever.

"What time is it?" I drone on, sleepily. I feel his head tilt to the side and then back.

"Eight in the morning," he answers. I almost fist-bump the air in victory.

"Let's stay here till ten," I suggest.

"Are you still tired? Or are you being suggestive?" I laugh softly as his voice sounds loudly in his chest.

"If you want me to be suggestive, I can be suggestive," I tease. Peter's hands rest on my ass and squeeze slightly, making me bite my lip.

"Be whatever you want to be, baby," his voice grows darker. He kisses the top of my head before twisting his arms around my waist, holding me in place. These are the moments when I tend to forget everything.

When we get to the kitchen, both of us forget about breakfast... and food for that matter. Food? What the hell is food?

I gasp into Peter's mouth as he slams me against the refrigerator, causing some magnets to scatter onto the floor. He grips the hem of my long shirt and pulls on it so hard that for a second I think he is trying to rip it. Instinctively, I grasp his hands, but he only pushes them above my head, slamming his body against mine.

Peter backs me up against a counter and spins me around. My head is spinning from all the sudden movements, and I collapse onto the counter, face first. He grips my hair from behind and lifts my head, jolting a moan through my mouth.

I scream as he fills me up from behind, slamming his hips against my ass roughly. Pain mixes with pleasure, and I grip a handle for towels in front of me, trying to keep myself on my feet.

"Peter!" I gasp. A loud thwack sounds through the kitchen as he spanks my behind. My head becomes fuzzy with all the sensations I am experiencing.

"Scream for me," he hisses. I obey his commands and let a loud squeal erupt from my tiny body. He seems to like that as he groans in response.

"Peter, I'm goin'ta-" A powerful orgasm interrupts my dialogue, shuddering through me. I continue moaning as Peter thrusts in and out, feeling my muscles clench around his cock. His grip on my hair tightens and I know that he is coming too. I am proven right when I hear a low moan from behind me.

Later that day, we are walking across a street hand in hand, getting looks from some people. Most of them know who I am, but I am not sure about Peter. To them, I am like a celebrity. I avoid their stares and lean against my boyfriend, wrapping my arm around his torso. He does the same to me.

"Where did you say we were going?" I ask spontaneously.

"I didn't," he replies, kissing the top of my head. I smile up at him before looking back ahead of me. The streetlights awaken as the sun sets behind the horizon. I slow to a stop when Peter turns a corner. He leads me over to a metallic bench, making sure I am comfortable in his lap after he sits down, "Here we are."

I look around me. It looks like a typical street of Chicago. But then Peter points upwards and I follow his finger. There are millions of lights twinkling on wires above us. They are little lamps, provided by the government to make the environment a more beautiful place. I've seen those before but somehow from here, they look even more breathtaking. The wind sways the wire, making the lights waltz above us. I let out a laugh before looking back down at Peter. His grin fills his face.

"They're pretty cool, right?" he nods towards the man-made stars.

"Right," I answer, cupping his face in my hands.

I don't think the passers-by would mind a young couple making out on the bench. Only to me, it feels like their eyes burn through us. But I don't care. I kiss Peter passionately, feeling my breath drift away into the cold night. He responds with just as much enthusiasm, squeezing me closer to him as he brushes his tongue along my bottom lip. A big bang breaks our kiss.

I turn my head to the source of the sound and widen my eyes. People are running past us, some screaming, and some yelling at one another. I look past the crowds to see what they are running away from. A massive, grey cloud stands out against the pink sunset. It's a bomb.

Peter shifts under me and I jump up from his lap. As he is about to say something, the shooting begins. A girl falls down onto the floor when a bullet penetrates her back. I widen my eyes at how close she is to me. As Peter grabs my hand I realize that they were not aiming at her. Whoever is shooting at the crowd has a bad aim.

I am dragged away and then I start running. There is screaming everywhere. The smart people run towards the nearest buildings, hiding in the secure construction. The not so smart ones are running along the street, zigzagging every now and then. I remember the girl who dropped dead next to me. Why would anyone shoot at innocent people? Surely, if they want someone to kill, it would have to be me. Then the reality crashes into my body like tons of bricks.

They are the rebels. And they are aiming at me.


	17. Chapter 17

I let Peter drag me away from the havoc. We have been running for about five blocks and my legs are already burning. After the war, I did not get a chance to keep up with all the exercise I have been doing before. So now I have to suffer even more pain than I am already feeling just to escape the gunfire. Peter, on the other hand, seems to have no problems.

I bump into his back as he abruptly stops and tightens his grip on my hand. Ow.

"This way," he whispers.

I look up when I become more confident that he knows where he is going. All I have to do is lift my feet up higher to avoid the unseen bumps in the ground. The sky is black now. We let the light of the stars guide us to safety. Fortunately, the concrete jungle shadows us. Next time I stop running is when Peter releases my hand and turns to face me. The cold air nips at my eyeballs, but I force myself not to blink.

"It's somewhere here," he says quietly. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as I try to catch my breath.

"What? What are you talking about?" I go on, "Your apartment is nowhere near here."

"My apartment?" the tone of his voice makes me feel dumb, like my questions are extremely irrelevant. I nod slowly, blinking obliviously at his slightly blue face, encouraging him to explain himself. He does, "We're not going there. It's not safe right now."

"What are you talking about? It's the safest place!" My voice rises suddenly, making Peter put a hand on my shoulder.

"Tris, be quiet," he says. I obey him immediately and bite down on my lip. My head turns to the right when I hear a metallic door creaking open. Through the dark, I see a masculine figure. I stand closer to Peter.

"Over here," the figure ushers. I exchange glances with my boyfriend before we follow who looks like a man into the building. Peter pulls me in as he enters and I am relieved at the sudden warmth that was awaiting us inside.

The door shuts loudly behind us. It is as dark as it was outside, only this time the only source of light is coming from a torch the man is carrying. He shines the light on my face quickly as if to identify me. I squint and block the light with my hand.

"Sorry, I had to make sure," he whispers. I look up at Peter to see him not looking confused at all. Before I have the chance to nudge him for an answer, I am yet again being dragged away from the danger. We half-run half-walk along the corridors of the building. I gasp in surprise as the ground disappears under my feet, and end up slamming my foot down at an odd angle.

"Careful," Peter warns me. We must be going down into some sort of basement. There are no stairs. I lean back slightly to keep my balance as we go further down into the ground.

My eyes widen at a dim light in the distance, ten and a half turns round corners later. I glance to my left to make sure that Peter is still there. He is. We follow the mysterious man as he enters a room. The light is much brighter here, and to my surprise it smells like coffee. I would have expected mold.

The man turns around and now his facial features are clear. He has pale skin and brown hair. The muscularity in his silhouette fooled me into thinking he was over twenty years old, but now I see that he doesn't look older than eighteen. He has no facial hair what so ever. And when he talks, I hear the sound of a puppy being scolded.

"This is a safe house," he utters. I stare up at him and then at Peter. To my relief, he gives me a smile and sighs.

"I know, thanks for finding us." He receives a nod from the boy, whose name turns out to be Jimmy, judging by his name tag. "Is Al here?"

"Yes," Jimmy whimpers, "He came by just an hour ago." I watch as he takes out his radio and speaks into it. He is answered by a deep voice at the end of the line, telling him to "send us in".

I take my time observing the walls of the building as we follow Jimmy down another set of corridors. This is a safe house. It seems more like a war camp to me. The are wooden tables pressed against the walls along with a set. I smirk slightly when I see a mini fridge in the corner of the room we enter. The atmosphere here is different. I find out why a second later when a guffaw erupts from a crowd of men. They are all wearing military clothes which hug their muscular bodies perfectly.

"Tris!" I deep voice tears my eyes away from the crowd. I look over and see Al walking up to us. "We heard about what happened."

I let Peter and Al go into a conversation about the attack in the town center. I take quick glances at other men when Al explains to us that some of them followed us to make sure we were safe. That was fortunate. Otherwise we probably would have died, being unarmed and everything. Only one was injured while shooting at the enemy. He is nowhere to be seen.

"I am sending a group of men to take a look at your place," Al states, glancing at me, "You can go back there as soon as everything is clear. I will keep some guards around your block as usual. Other than that, you have nothing to worry about."

Peter and I nod our heads like monkeys. Before Al turns to leave, he raises his eyebrows at me.

"Oh, and one more thing," he says, pulling out a slip of paper, scanning his eyes over it, "Christina. Do you know her?"

My heart is in my mouth.

"Yes," I croak out. Has something happened to her? Al sees my discomfort and I swear that I watch his eyes soften. He tilts his head to the side.

"We sent a search party to locate the whereabouts of the war heroes. Christina was one of them. We are guessing that the rebels are hunting down all of the people who helped you," he points at me, "so we wasted no time in gathering them here. Where it is safe."

I watch Al's expression, my eyes begging for him to continue. He nods at me and puts the paper back into his pocket.

"And it is our priority to keep you all from harm. She is going through some tests. As far as I know, Christina was very eager to reunite with you." I smile, "You will see her soon."

"She's here?" I ask in disbelief, making Al grin at me.

"Yes," he confirms. I turn and smile widely at Peter who is looking as disappointed as a child during a business meeting. I roll my eyes at him and look down at my feet, unable to wipe the smile from my face. Christina is here. I will finally get to talk to her. It has been so long.

When I look up, I notice that Al has disappeared. I bite my lip and turn around to face Peter. He wraps his arms around me slowly and kisses my forehead.

"Should I put my bullet proof vest on?" Peter asks. I laugh and step back.

"Peter, please don't start an argument with her," I shoot him a warming look which he shakes off.

"I can't stand that girl."

"Peter," I keep my voice stern. The laughter in the room has quieted down. Some soldiers have left to do their jobs, while others sat down at a wooden table and fired up a brand new topic, weirdly involving fish and films. Nick is among the crowd. He glances at me from time to time, shooting me a smirk which can only suggest he wants to get into my pants. I ignore it and try to convince myself that it means nothing. Yet again. But even I am not that stupid.

Peter and I have taken a seat at a small table in another room, larger than the first one. He made us both coffee, which I learned was the most popular drink here. I sipped the hot contents as the events of today started to replay in my head. The dead girl in front of me slams down into the ground and I twitch slightly at the memory. Peter gives me a questioning look before downing his drink.

Suddenly, a female voice wipes all the bad memories away from me. I turn my head and smile widely when I see Christina walking in, accompanied by a guard. Her gaze on him barely shifts. She has not changed at all. Even her clothes mostly consist of black fabric.

"Hey, if you want to make me coffee, I ain't stopping ya." I giggle at her and get up from my seat after she visibly checks out a soldier a few feet away from her. When she sees me, her face lights up and we run towards each other, stopping ourselves when we hug.

"Christina," I greet, thankful for the giggles erupting from deep within her.

"Tris, where have you been all this time!" She holds me at an arms length and examines me, nodding her head in approval.

"It's so good to see you," I whisper in disbelief, hugging her again when she releases my arms. We pull away a while later, barely noticing the hush in the room. Christina's face changes abruptly, causing me to raise my eyebrows. She folds her arms and looks past me. I am suddenly aware that a certain someone has been standing behind me this whole time.

"What is he doing here?" She spits venom as her eyes cut holes in my soul. I clear the way between her and Peter, biting my lip uncomfortably.

"He's with me, it's okay," I assure her. I don't think she realizes what I am trying to say until I say it again, "He's with me."

"What?" Her brown eyes jump from Peter to me. I hold my breath, expecting her to lose control completely.

"Don't be so surprised," Peter's voice makes me stiff. Why do I get the feeling that this is going to go down hill? Christina answers faster than I thought possible, as if she has been rehearsing this scenario in her head for years.

"Why would I be surprised? An ass with that much testosterone would go out with a fish."

"Hey," I glare at her slightly and to my relief, her shoulders slump.

"Sorry, that was a low blow," she admits, rubbing my arm playfully. I am not even mad. Seeing her has made me so happy that I am sure I will stay like this for an entire week.

"Yeah, like Will," Peter mutters. I hear him. And so does Christina.

"Peter," I give him a serious look which he accepts like a trophy. "What are we, twelve?" That keeps him quiet. His eyebrows furrow and he looks down at the floor.

The murmurs among the men have left the room. I chew on my lip and listen carefully for a comeback from Christina, but to everyone's advantage, she stays quiet. I let my heartbeat slow down before I turn to smile at her. "Hey, do you want to get some coffee?"

She smiles back at me, although her eyes don't. Nevertheless, she agrees and we walk to the table I was sat on a few minutes ago, leaving Peter glaring daggers into the distance.

**Christina is here! :) I had to include her in the story, she is one of my favorite characters ever. Tell me what you thought of this chapter in the reviews. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you for the reviews , and enjoy this chapter.**

"So what's the deal with you and douche bag anyway?" Christina does not hold back as we start discussing Peter. I remember that she used to be Candor and says the most awful things without realizing how they could hurt people, but I forgive her every time. She is the only person who would never lie to me. I dismiss her snide remarks about Peter and answer her calmly.

"He found me on a road after I broke up with my boyfriend," I explain, twisting the metal spoon between my fingers when I finish stirring my coffee. She listens hard. It urges me to continue, "He's changed, Christina. He is not the asshole you used to know."

"I doubt that," she sips her coffee before continuing, "Once an ass, always an ass." I notice that there are heavy streaks of mascara on her eyelashes, (probably to attract the males). There is a faint black line on her eyelids, suggesting that she didn't have time to re-apply her eyeliner. I don't blame her. I don't even have time to _buy_ an eyeliner.

"I don't know what I'd do without him," I say to myself more than to her. Silence follows. I look up from my coffee cup and notice that she is smirking at me, "What?"

"You're all grown up now," she teases. I roll my eyes at her and chuckle before taking another sip of my hot beverage. Peter has left the room as soon as we made ourselves a drink. He is probably letting off steam. I really don't know what winds him up so much about Christina. She is loud and brutally honest, but so is he. I think.

We chat for so long that I barely notice that my coffee has gone cold. I push it away to indicate that I will no longer drink it and continue listening to Christina. It turns out that she is single, (which surprised me). She also said that she stocked up on a dozen dresses in a week (which did not). I nod along as she talks, listening to most of her babble, but occasionally glancing towards the doorway to see if Peter has returned. I once again catch Nick's eyes on me and quickly look back at Christina, who made a paper crane out of the napkin that was on the table. Her polished finger nails dance around the neck of the crane as she carries on with her stories. I watch her fingers tap the wooden table.

"They can't keep us here for long, I have a life you know," Christina continues, glancing up at me. This catches my attention.

"They're just trying to keep us safe."

"Yeah, I know," she says, "but the atmosphere makes me wanna hang myself. Thank fuck there are these beautiful creatures walking around, you know?" I laugh softly as she waves at a guy with various tattoos on his arms. He nods in our direction, making Christina smile wider.

"I think they'll let us go soon," I say, "maybe someone will announce something..." I trail off as I hear three loud notes being transmitted over a tannoy I never knew existed. After the music, a deep male voice fills the room.

"_Can Tris Prior please go to the sorting room. That's Tris Prior to the sorting room._" The voice cuts off with a crackle. I raise my eyebrows at Christina who is giving me a curious look. All the remaining people in the room have turned to smirk at me, and I clear my throat casually.

"Where the hell is the sorting room?" I ask Christina in a hushed tone. She shrugs and stands up with me before tossing her empty cup into the trash can.

"I'll look for it with you," she replies.

"Down the corridor and to your right," a familiar voice says behind me. I turn to see Nick lifting his paper cup at me before gulping whatever is inside. I smile slightly and nod.

"Thanks," I whisper, receiving a wink from him. I know that Christina noticed this because as we walk out of the door, she squeals and jumps on my back playfully.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Did you see the guy on those biceps?!" I jerk her off my back and laugh, shaking my head.

"Ew, no!" I brush a hand along my shoulder as we walk down the corridor, "He isn't even that attractive."

"You, my friend, are completely blind." Her voice is factual and playful at the same time. I shrug off the events of the past five minutes as Nick's voice echoes in my head. _Down the corridor and to your right._

I turn right with Christina at my heels. There is a large sign on a door with 'Sorting Room' written in permanent marker on it. I raise my finger to the words to try to wipe them away but they stay permanent, as the marker promised. Clever. The door is slightly open and I push it before walking in. Al is sat at a desk, looking up at Peter who is leaning against a wall with his arms folded. He gives me a serious look, but I notice the spark in his eyes and smile slightly. He smiles back.

"Tris," Al starts, "We need to go over a few things."

I hear Christina close the door behind us. I walk over to Peter when he extends his arm towards me. He wraps it around my frame when I grasp his hand. Well, our fight seems to be over. There is no negative energy radiating from him. I can tell because his breathing in light and steady. I turn my head to glance at Christina who has fixed her gaze on Al.

"Ah," Al breathes, "It's nice of you to join us." He gestures for her to sit down across the room and she does. "This goes for you too."

I watch Al as he takes a pen out of the drawer of his desk and scribbles some undoubtedly useless notes on a tissue. Peter releases me from his embrace and pulls out a metallic chair for me to sit on. I lower myself onto the cold metal and stare up at Al.

"What did you want to talk about?" I ask. Al wastes no time in firing up his computer and browsing through some files. He answers me while doing so.

"As you already know, we have gathered you here to ensure your safety-"

"Can you get to the point?" Christina whines impatiently. I hear Peter sigh deeply behind me and clench my fists.

"Tris," I didn't realise how long of a pause Al took before he says my name, "Peter. It won't be safe for you to resume living where you do. For all we know, the rebels might track you down and we will not be able to protect you outside of the safe house." I nod as I listen to his speech, "Obviously, we are not in a position where we can order you to live here. You are free to go. But you have to know that it is extremely dangerous."

"You want us to live in this dump?" Peter asks calmly.

"This place will be refurbished."

"Wait, wait, wait," Christina starts, "Are you saying I can't go back to my house?" Al shoots her a look before answering.

"You can, if you are foolish enough." Al states. I bite my lip nervously, glancing up at the ceiling. It is exactly the same as it was in the coffee room. The lights in here are dull but I can still make out the disappointment of Christina's face.

"I have a dog, I can't just not return," She waves her arms around in frustration. I remember what she said to me about having to kill a dog in her aptitude test and how it ruined any chances of her ever getting a pet. I guess that she was Dauntless enough to do it.

"I will send my men to your house," Al answers quietly, "They will extract your dog and bring it to the safe house." I speak up before somebody else gets the chance to.

"We need to get our clothes and things,"

"I will send a group to get your clothes and things," Al mimics me. I almost smirk, but Peter squeezes my shoulder so hard that I amost wince.

"This is insane. I am not abandoning my apartment," he hisses. I turn my head to look up at him. His eyes are cold when he glances in my direction, "Tris can stay here but I am not moving."

"Wait, what?" I ask, rising up from my seat. Peter keeps his jaw strong and his posture straight. I run through the conversation we just had and try to point out the flaws in our plan. It is hard to note them.

"You'll be safer here," he says quietly, probably not wanting anyone else to hear but me, "I won't let you follow me if it's dangerous."

"Why can't you just stay here?" I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Because I have an apartment," he says. What was I thinking? Of course Peter won't risk losing his only belonging because of some stupid conflict. It is way more reasonable for him to live where he does and not conform to orders because of me. I am not that important. I let him know that by stepping back and nodding.

"Yeah, I know," I lower my voice. It is my fault. I have influenced him enough. He is about to lose his apartment. To be honest, I am glad that he is standing up for what he believes. I won't let him lose his home.

"Tris," he mutters, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me closer. I keep my eyes cast down as he nuzzles his face into my hair, "I'll come back once I have all of our stuff gathered-"

"No, you were right the first time," I cut him off, "Stay at your place. I will stay here. It's best for everyone."

"No, it doesn't make any sense," his breath tickles my cheek. Al's deep voice breaks us apart, but I don't look at him.

"You can live where you live," he states, "I already said that it is all up to you."

"Tris will stay here because it is safer-"

"No, I won't!" I raise my voice slightly and then sigh, "I mean, I will but... Only if you agree to send a team to where his apartment is-"

"You want them to babysit me?" Peter asks, squeezing my hips slightly. I slap his hands away and step back, shaking my head.

"I want to know that Peter will be left out of this. He will go to his apartment and live there and your team will make sure that no rebels step onto his territory."

"Why don't you just get a new place?" Christina's voice sounds. I almost forgot that she was there. That is probably the best idea she had in years.

"What?" Peter grumbles. I look over as she continues talking.

"Well, money is not a problem... You two can just get a new apartment, get fake ID's and nobody will know where the real Tris Prior and Peter Hayes live. So you can live together."

I stare at her for a while before looking at Peter. The silence in the room signifies that the idea is starting to actually make sense and I mentally high-five my best friend.

"We can do that?" Peter turns to Al, furrowing his eyebrows as he nods.

"It will take time but yes," he says, "Is that what you want to do? Obviously, there will be a squad near your new living facilities." Of course.

After a long silence, I hear Peter sigh and see him looking down at my from the corner of my eye.

"Is this what you want?" He asks. I hold my breath and rethink the options I was given. I can stay here and be safe, but without Peter. I can go back to his apartment and constantly glance behind my back, knowing that my chances of surviving are slim. Or I can get a new place with Peter, a new place. A new start. Little chances of anybody tracking us. I can start living in peace, or at least what is left of it.

"Yes," I reply without hesitation. Peter's face is vacant, like he just saw a very boring movie.

"Then I will start looking for a place." I tense up as he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. He is giving up his apartment. Because of my selfishness and my need to survive and keep him close at the same time.

Well, Beatrice, you finally did it.

You finally rid Peter Hayes of everything that was left of him.

**The more reviews I get on this, the faster the next upload will be ;)**


	19. Chapter 19

**This chapter is a bit crazy, but it all depends on how you take it. Enjoy :)**

Five days later, we moved into a small apartment on the outskirts of Chicago. It is smaller than Peter's other apartment. Who am I kidding? It is absolutely tiny. There is one bedroom, a living room and a kitchen. The bathroom is included but it might as well not be. I have to suck in my stomach to squeeze through the gap between the bathtub and the wall.

And if the living space wasn't bad enough, just wait till you hear about the style. Most of the walls are painted in cream colours. The paint has become so old that it started to crack near the doorframe and near the ceiling. In the living room, there are dull, floral wallpapers, some peeling off already. I tried to keep my smile when we first stepped into the apartment, but the disappointment on my face was evident. Peter didn't even look at me. He was too busy watching all of his hopes crash down. He left his beautiful place for this shack and now he blames me. We couldn't find a more expensive place because it would be too obvious for the rebels. They would look at the poshest areas in Chicago first.

So here we are now. Living the perfect fucking life. Peter is managing to tolerate my selfishness. I am managing not to yell at him for not being more attentive. I think we both know that if we keep quiet, arguments will be avoided. I can't wait for all of this to be over. So we can finally stop hiding and be ourselves and lead a normal life.

I am sorting out our clothes and stacking them into the cheap wardrobe. They just came out of the washing machine. My hands become dry with the help of the warm air. Peter went out to buy air conditioning a couple or days ago. He said he wouldn't put up with the heat. After all, the rebels have no way of knowing what possessions we have inside the household so it wouldn't matter what he bought and how oddly expensive it was.

I sit down on the bed by leaning back. It is much cooler in here now.

"I'm making spaghetti, will you have some?" Peter appears in the doorway. He is shirtless. My hormones hit the roof as I cross my legs.

"Yeah, sure," I nod, watching as he walks away without smiling. We didn't have sex since we moved here. I don't blame Peter for turning away from me in bed. I stopped trying to seduce him before I could embarrass myself even more.

We still talk, we just lost our touch.

After dinner, I wash up our plates and stack them near the sink. I start thinking about visiting the safe house. We have been spending more time there than in this apartment. Christina is there for me, and Peter has his friends. But when we return home, an awkward silence falls upon us.

"I'm going to visit Al," Peter says behind me. I turn around and see that he is already wearing his jacket and shoes. I manage a small nod as my heart starts beating faster. Maybe I could try something.

"Wait for me, I need to talk to Christina," I dry my hands quickly after he nods and takes a seat on the kitchen chair. Quickly, I get ready and secure my hat on the top of my head. Peter walks up behind me, clearing his throat.

"Ready?" He asks.

"Yeah," I whisper, looking him up and down. He fakes a smile and I am grateful. I take a deep breath and step closer to him, cupping his face in my hands. My lips meet his timidly, tasting the spice from the hot spaghetti. He shocks me when he kisses back. If he is acting, he is doing it well. Nevertheless, I continue to move my lips against his, hoping to light that spark between us. The image of water being spilled overwhelms me, and the spark dies out before it even began to twinkle. He pulls away and pushes past me, walking out of the door.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"I still don't see why you like him so much," Christina releases a faint laugh, tugging at her dog's collar to follow us. Her pet is exactly like her. Flirtatious. Pretty. But he is male.

We take a seat on two wooden chairs in an empty room. Phil (her dog) rests his head on my lap, letting his massive ears cover my thighs. His breed is unknown. What is know is that he is enormous. I try to ignore the way Christina stares past me at a security guard near the door as I start speaking.

"He's under a lot of stress, Chris," The hole in my chest brings the taste of bile to my mouth. I remember the look on his face at the dinner table.

"Stress?" Her voice is animated, "I'm sorry but that does not give him the right to shut you out. You are his girlfriend."

"He's not shutting me out," I explain, "We still talk and stuff."

She doesn't reply for a while. I start to get impatient and look up at her from Phil, biting my lip. She simply stares at me with a look of derision and smiles slightly.

"We're going shopping," she says, "I'll make you buy so many outfits, he'll be on his knees by the end of the day,"

"Yeah, begging for me to change my clothes," I mock, a smirk playing on my lips.

"Tris, I swear to God." Before I can decline her invitation, she gets up from her seat and jogs over to the security guard. I hear her asking for permission to leave the headquarters. As expected, the man shakes his head.

"Christina, sit down," I call to her. She pulls a face at me before disappearing from my view. I sit stunned for a moment, trying to evaluate her next move. Phil raises his head when he notices the absence of his owner. I smirk and flick his ear, receiving a warning look from his adorable snout.

She comes back ten minutes later with a wide grin on her face and three men behind her. I raise my eyebrows at her squad.

"They are coming with us," she says. I glance at the men behind her. They all look the same, except from the fact that all of them have different eye colour.

"Christina, what are you-"

"It's safe!" She exclaims, pointing at the men I am not aquainted to. "They will be with us at the shopping center. Come on! You need this."

I try to think, but Christina's dog jumps in front of my face, his damp breath near mine. I push him away with one hand and giggle, rolling my eyes.

"Fine, but let's just make this quick."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I look at myself in the mirror. How did I let Christina pick out my clothes in the first place? This is a nightmare. I am wearing the most revealing lingerie ever. The black tones go against my pale skin very well but seriously, why can I see my nipples? I run my fingers along the chain of the necklace as I travel my eyes further south. It is covered up down there but the waistline of the panties starts just above my pubic hair. I cringe and close my eyes for a second. As I open them, I pull my hair up in a small bun to see if I would look better like that. I do not.

"For fuck sake," I whisper to myself.

The shopping trip went exactly as expected. We did not get much freedom to roam around our favourite stores, but Christina knew which ones to go in. Obviously, there was a lot of clothes involved in each of them. At one point, she started to argue with one security guard because apparently he "stepped into the changing rooms". I smirk at memory. I managed to collect about ten shopping bags, half of them full of clothes and the other half empty but they make me look like an experienced shopper.

As I step to the right, Peter's face appears behind me in the mirror. I gasp quietly and widen my eyes at him.

"Don't worry, it suits you," his voice sends chills down my spine. How did we end up like this?

I run a hand down my shoulder as he steps closer. I couldn't have possibly known that he would do what he did. I feel the warmth of his hands tickle up my back and bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. I almost forgot what this feels like. I expect him to step back from me and walk back to where he was but he doesn't. Nevertheless, I savour the moment and force my skin absorb all of his touches.

His hot breath skims past the back of my neck and I tighten the grip on my hair, not letting it fall down just yet. Fear shoots through me when he plants a kiss on my shoulder. It all feels too familiar. Please don't stop.

"My baby," he whispers. My breath hitches when his arms twist around me. Before I can stop them, tears well up in my eyes against my will. I can't forget how he looked at me after I agreed that I would move. Our relationship is bent. Even now, he is only acting the way he is because I am half naked. Where is the love?

A tear rolls down my face when he tugs on my skin with his teeth. I turn my head and lower my hands so that they rest on top of his.

"What's the matter?" He asks. Shit. He noticed. I try to laugh but it sounds more like a sob.

"I don't know," I whimper, not holding back anymore. I take a risk and glance at his face in the mirror. He stares at me vacantly. No emotion whatsoever.

"Stop crying," he orders. His voice is too firm. Not gentle anymore. He is turning into somebody else. I whimper again and start sobbing. My hands cover my face in an attempt to hide my pathetic expression. He steps away slightly and I take my chance to walk to the other side of the room. I grab my shirt and put it on, noticing how my surroundings start blurring from all the tears.

Suddenly, I feel his big hands grasp me from behind, spinning me around. If he wants to hit me, I will let him.

He does not.

Instead, he pulls me into a tight embrace and starts whispering soothing words into my ear. I almost laugh at his timing. Perfect. Was he doing this on purpose? So that he could get this out of me?

"I love you, Peter," I blurt out. I need to let him know. In case he forgot. I don't care if he loves me too. I just want him to know, "I love you so much."

"I know," he whispers back, squeezing me tighter, "I love you. Just stop crying."

I smile against his shoulder and gasp for air as I reach the point of hysteria. He sways our bodies, breathing me in. I want him more than I ever did.

"I'm such an asshole, I just needed space." He admits. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, "I didn't realise how much this was hurting you."

"Don't lie to me," I squeak, pressing my face into his chest.

"I am not lying," he says. I pull away slightly to look up at him. He has concern plastered all over his face. It makes my heart leap.

"I love you," I repeat, smiling when we grins at me. His thumbs work along my face, drying my cheeks.

"I love you too," he whispers.

Something happens really fast. And then something happens way too slowly. Before I am even aware, Peter's mouth starts tracing patterns across my stomach. My shirt is now off. My bra follows shortly after. I let a giggle escape my lips when his hair tickles my breasts. His smirk presses against my collarbone as the sound of a zipper fills the tiny room.

His hot skin compresses the air between us and against my sweating body. The moans coming out of my mouth don't sound human by the time he penetrates me. The sting of unfamiliarity comes back between my legs, burning. Burning. I let him bite into my skin, not caring if he peels it off my bones. My nails dig into his back as he starts to pound. I drag them down carelessly, eliciting harsh groans from his mouth. To get back at me, he lowers his mouth to my nipple and bites. My whole body caves in. He stops just when I let go of his back. He pins my wrists above my head faster than I thought possible.

"Fuck me," I moan. He grows larger inside of me, making me throw my head back. It's painful. But I need it.

I pant heavily as Peter fills me up, saying my name. I know I am bleeding because there is blood smeared on his chest. It doesn't bother me, but it has a different effect on him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. His eyes dart all over my body. I shake my head.

"Do it again," I whisper. He looks at me in shock for a moment. I nod to justify what I just said.

He leans down and bites down on the wound on my chest.

My screams fill the room. I think I startle him for a moment. I don't care.

I want to be as close to him as possible. I need to know that he wants the same thing. He sucks away the patch of blood before making love to me again and again.

That time, instead of cutting me open, he caresses me closed. And I am healed.

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	20. Chapter 20

**Okay, so in this chapter there is a lot of symbolism. **

**It might be hard for some of you to get it but it does reveal a lot about the future of this story AND PREDICTS WHAT WILL HAPPEN. Guys, the clues are all in here xD I do literature in college and I have taken a lot from it. Remember, I wrote what I wrote for a reason ;) have fun figuring this out ;)**

Loving him is like opening your eyes to see a purple sunset. So rare. So beautiful. So breath-taking. Like all beautiful things, it comes to an end. And then just before it sets beyond the horizon, before it disappears from your view, before the black sky takes over, it rises back up.

Love wraps me around his little finger. Maybe if I tried hard enough, I would be able to untangle myself. The thing is... I don't want to.

Feeling his naked body against mine wipes away all the bad things in the world. I barely feel the ache on my chest from when he bit me during our passionate session. I smile into my hand when he moves behind me in his sleep. The surroundings don't matter. The fucked up apartment doesn't matter. The cracked paint is not a concern. When Peter kisses my back, I turn to face him.

His hair is in serious need of brushing. His eyes are half open, but I can still see the fierce brown shining through the cracks. I realise that I must look worse. I cried before we fell asleep, so the bags under my eyes are without question there.

"We have to paint this hell-hole," Peter blurts out, "I need to buy paint. Today." My eyes scan his facial features as I stroke his cheek with one hand.

"So today we'll be painting," I say, making him grin.

"I forgot to say good morning," he admits. I chuckle slightly, turning to lay on my back.

He reminds me of how serious the wound on my chest actually is by running a hand over it. I wince, and his hand goes still. What was I thinking? Have I actually gone insane? It all felt right at the time, but you begin to regret it by morning. Why did I want him to make me bleed?

"I'll buy paint, and then I'll buy a band-aid and then we can begin our creative day." Peter murmurs sleepily. I nod to show that I agree and let out a quiet yawn.

We stay still for about ten minutes. Without knowing, I closed my eyes and began to drift off to sleep. The only thing keeping me awake was the blazing sun through the window. When I next look at Peter, he will be asleep. It has been too long for a conscious man to not make any movements. I look over at him and smirk at his sleeping face. So much for a productive day.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Peter ended up buying paint. I thought he would buy two buckets and some brushes. No. He bought thirteen. All in different colours. All super bright. Anybody would be able to tell that he is no artist. He also bought a band-aid, as promised. Peter being Peter, it wasn't a plain band-aid. It was a dinosaur band-aid. I am wearing a dinosaur band-aid.

There are thirteen large buckets of paint stacked up in the hallway. I fold my arms and observe them, wondering to myself: _Is this a joke?_

He hands me a large brush after removing all the furniture from our bedroom. The hallway is too small for our bed, so he had to place it in the kitchen. I twirl the brush between my fingers, glancing up at him. He has the biggest grin in the world.

"You ready?" He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

"How exactly are we painting?" I look up from the buckets of paint.

"Just throw it onto the walls and hope for the best," he says, grabbing the bucket of red paint, "pick a colour."

I conform and take my time carrying the yellow bucket (that I carefully picked out) to our empty room. Peter waits patiently until I put the bucket down to deliver the news: "I don't think the yellow will go with the red." It takes me all the willpower I have not to slap him.

"Y'know, let's just paint and see how it goes, okay?" I smirk when he nods obediently and opens his bucket, "Don't we need some sort of overalls?"

"If we get dirty, we can just buy new clothes," he states, dipping his brush into the thick paint. I do the same, watching bubbles form on top of the yellow matter. I wait for Peter to begin first so that I can mimic his movements. He swipes his brush along the wall, creating a long line of paint. My gaze stays on it shortly before I do the same. What the hell? This place can't look any worse anyway.

When I think that my side looks acceptable, I step back and admire. It looks okay, except for the fact that the upper part of the wall is left untouched. I feel Peter's eyes on me and turn to see him smiling.

"Need a chair?" I roll my eyes at him and drop my brush into the bucket. The smell of the fresh paint fills the room very fast. I ache to go over to the window and open it for the outside air to wash away the smell.

"I'm opening the window," and I do. Before I begin painting again, my eyes glue to the wall Peter was busy with. It's red. Just red. Everywhere. The colour makes me want to put my head through a table.

"Don't you like it?" He notices my stare and stops painting.

"I do," I lie, "Maybe you should try mixing a few colours in." I suggest. He nods before bringing the rest of the buckets into the bedroom. I know him too well in order to figure out what he is thinking. The mischievous grin plays on his lips as he opens one of the paints. At first, I think that he will flick some paint at me from his brush. But I realize that I have underestimated him.

I gasp as the cold, thick liquid sticks to my skin and to my clothes. He spilled the whole bucket over my head. I should yell, or at least punch him, but the feeling is too overwhelming. My skin turns cold under the paint and I gasp again.

"Oh my god," I wipe my face with the back of my hand.

Peter begins laughing. Maybe I should join him. But it isn't funny to me. Finally, I find my inner voice and yell: "Are you insane?!"

"Babe, now I have an excuse to get you into a shower," he gasps for air in his explanation and I look down at my feet. Black paint.

"How am I supposed to wash this off?!" Rage builds up inside of me. I have to get him back. While is he occupied laughing his ass off, I stomp over to another bucket and open the lid, grunting like a gorilla. I hope he gets the joke when he realises that I spilled white paint over him. Candor colours.

He does not seem that surprised. He was expecting me to do it. However, it doesn't stop him from marching over to me and tackling me to the ground. I shriek and grip his shirt for balance. We both end up on the floor. The newspaper we used to protect the carpet sticks to my wet back.

Gasps of laughter erupt from my body, making me shake. We were supposed to make the apartment a better place. And we ended up doing the exact opposite. I watch him laugh above me, the white paint from his hair dripping down onto my face. The black and white mix together.

We made grey.

**Review ;)**

**This is the bit in the story where it can go either ways. Tell me in the comments if you want a particular scene or bit in the story and I will try to add it. This is your last chance as we are going to tip into the core of the plot from the next chapter.**


	21. Chapter 21

After we calmed down and stopped throwing paint at each other, Peter and I decided to take a bath. The colors on my body dried and began to crack around where my limbs bend. I cringe as I step into the tub after stripping naked. Peter is already there. The water turned pale red when he put his foot in it, but I mixed in my darker colors by lying down on his bare chest. His hands slide up my hips, keeping me in place.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, trailing his fingers across my bellybutton.

"What for?" My voice is slurred from the humidity in the room. A slight nausea comes over me.

"Y'know," he clears his throat, "Tipping the bucket over your head. Black is a tricky color to wash off." Even in his most sincere apologies, I hear his smirk.

"Whatever," I roll my eyes, resting my head back against his chest. The water is scorching, but our bodies handle it as if the paint acts like a barrier against the heat. I glance down at the water and see that it has turned black.

I feel Peter's hand parting the dry parts of my hair. When it tugs my head back, he stops and pours some water over me to add moisture, making the whole process easier.

I smirk when I hear the sound of a bottle opening with a 'pop'. Then I feel him rubbing shampoo into my hair. I could really get used to this. Steam warms my nostrils as I breathe in, taking into account how Peter's fingers graze my scalp. When I feel like my hair is light with shampoo bubbles, I cup my hands under the water and bring them up to my hair, washing away the chemicals.

"Let me," he says.

I press my back into his chest as shampoo begins to flow down my shoulders and into the water. As I open my eyes, I realize that all the paint has been washed away. The black liquid we lay in, coats our bodies. From the corner of my eye, I see Peter putting down the shower head and turning it off. He must have been washing everything away. I didn't even feel it.

Suddenly, the nausea from before rises in my throat and I groan softly, closing my eyes. Peter takes my hands in his, filling the gaps between my fingers.

"It's too hot in here," I say, hoping he will understand that I feel sick.

"Why do you think that is?" he purrs against my ear.

Oh, boy.

"No, seriously," I whisper, swallowing the feeling. I feel him sit up behind me and freeze for a moment before speaking up.

"You okay?"

"No, it's too hot," I repeat. How long does this usually take him?

"I'll open the door," he says. Our bathroom is small. Literally, all Peter has to do is lean forward a bit, reach the door handle and open it. I close my eyes at the pleasure of fresh air. The breeze from the bedroom hits my exposed knees and face, sucking away the nausea.

I stay quiet, taking deep breaths.

"Tris, you feeling better?" he mumbles. I nod slowly and smile to myself.

"Yeah," I reply, "Thanks."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I watch my movements in the mirror as I wipe at my moist skin with a towel. I decide that there is no rush, and brush the fluffy material along my arms slowly. I started to feel drowsy after the bath so Peter told me he would let me sleep if I wanted to. Not that he is somehow stopping me from sleeping anyway. It's just that I think he wanted to do something more... active.

"You have to stop teasing me like this," I hear his voice behind me. I look up and see him in the mirror, fully clothed and smirking.

"I'm not," I reply, "I just haven't picked anything out." I gesture to the wardrobe. He nods and opens it up, pulling out my recently bought items.

"Wear this," I turn around and see him holding up a see through nightgown. He looks serious. I can't help but take it as a joke.

"I'm never wearing that," I confirm.

"Then why did you buy it?"

"Christina made me," I say, holding my towel up to my chest.

"Christina has a good taste." Peter tosses me the red silk and I have no choice but to catch it. It does look sexy, but I doubt it will on me. I drop my towel and slide the material onto my body, feeling it stick to my still soaking hips. Peter licks his lips as I straighten it out.

"Well? Happy now?" I ask, doing a slight twirl. My body is completely exposed. The thin silk dances across my skin as I shake my hips.

"Very happy," he replies, making no attempt to come closer to me.

"Good," I say.

After a quick glance in the mirror, I stumble onto the bed, no longer caring about my appearance. My hair is wet. My nightgown is see-through. And yet I sprawl out across the bed like sloth, being pretty confident that I look horrifying. Peter chuckles from across the room and comes to sit on the edge of the bed. Somehow he positions himself so that we are both laying down but I am on his chest. I head is too fuzzy to comprehend the new stimuli. I keep my eyes open for the sake of feeling like a good girlfriend.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I answer, receiving a kiss on the forehead.

"That's what Goldie always says, but she keeps coming back to the safe house with bullet holes in her leg," he mumbles. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and look up at him. His eyes meet mine.

"Who's Goldie?" I ask, putting on my expectant look.

"I didn't tell you?" I feel my head ache as I try to remember the name, but my mind goes blank.

"No," I say, "What? Why? Who is she?" I sit up, feeling my face starting to burn.

"She just works for Al. She's one of the soldiers."

"I didn't know there were women there," I say. A pang of jealousy suddenly hits me. Surely, it's nothing.

"She's the only one," he replies. There is a hidden smile behind his face. I remember how he didn't tell me about Fiona. How we had a massive argument because he was cheating on her. My heart skips a beat as I look down at his chest.

"Her name sucks." Wow. Way to go Tris.

Peter releases a halfhearted laugh. It makes my blood boil. "Well, it's the only one she has." I feel his hand run up and down my back as I tense up. All of a sudden, I am thirsty for more information.

"So she works for Al... that means she is one of the soldiers..." I hope he continues to explain.

"I've already told you that," he says, staring at me for a moment, "She's one of the soldiers... her name is Goldie...- Oh! She is related to Nick! He's her brother." He pipes up, as if to make me feel better. She is related to Nick? That would mean that she is attractive, if their genes are almost identical.

"Why didn't I ever see her?"

"She spends most of the time out on missions. Hunting the rebels," Peter stops, giving me a smirk. "Why are you interrogating me?"

"I'm not," I shake my head. "I just wanna know why you've never told me about her." He squeezes one of my hands, not tearing his eyes off me.

"Please don't tell me that you're jealous," he smirks. Why the hell would I not be jealous? She's obviously pretty. He has never told me about her, so that means he must be hiding something. And from what I know, he is very good at keeping secrets. Or am I just being paranoid?

"I'm not jealous." I conclude, resting my head back on his chest. He becomes tense under me and I anticipate that the conversation is not over.

"You trust me, right?" his voice is quiet. I bite down on my lip and sigh, forcing myself to relax.

"Yeah, I do," I say.

"You don't act like it," he says. The air becomes thick with tension. I hold my breath, not knowing what to say. "Goldie is just a work colleague. She is like one of the guys. Except that she has a vagina."

I don't know what I expected from him. He won't be serious. I might as well forget about this conversation before I dig myself a hole.

"Just shut up for a second," I spit out. He stays quiet for longer than I expected.

"I love you, Tris," he murmurs, "You might not trust me, but I trust you. And it's okay if you feel that way. I'm not going to give up on you." A small smile reaches my lips. Instead of a heated face, I feel butterflies rise in my stomach. "I love you so much." There is honesty is his voice. I look up at him and smile as I answer.

"I love you too." I kiss him once, pulling away to look at his face. He looks innocent, sincere and loyal at the same time. I trust him. I know I do. I have to trust him.

"What?" he asks. I realize that I was about to say something before I closed the gap between my lips.

"We should just leave Chicago," I trace a finger along his jawline. He stiffens.

"What are you talking about?" He almost sounds hurt.

"I mean we should leave. We could leave." His eyes change dramatically. I have to look down in order to continue talking. "We could get a better place outside the city. Nobody would find us. We could get a house and-" he cuts me off.

"Tris, don't," he shakes his head.

"What? Why?"

"We can't leave right now," he says.

"I know but we could-"

"No, we can't, how can you say that?" I look up into his eyes and see that they are darker. There is a crease between his eyebrows, showing his distressed mood. "There are thousands of people fighting a war for you. You can't abandon them." I am taken aback. He is right. That is a rarity.

What was I thinking? Of course we can't leave. We have to stay and fight. Am I a coward for even considering this? I press my face against his chest and conceal my emotions. Peter's hand rests on the side of my face, making me look at him.

"You have to be brave, okay?" he whispers. I nod quickly and look back down. "I promise you. When this is all over we can leave. We will go wherever you want to go. We'll get a house and a new car and a dog and whatever you want. I'll get a new job and then we can have kids, like normal people."

My heart skips a beat. I stare up at him.

"You just have to be brave for now, okay?" I swallow my pride before answering.

"Okay."

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	22. Chapter 22

I have realized that our bed is stained with paint. Peter moved it into the bedroom while the paint on the walls was still wet. Multi-colored bed. Nice. As for the walls, Peter finished painting them himself. One of the walls is red, the second is yellow and the other two are black. Anyone who walked into the room could probably notice our personalities being split right in front of their eyes.

Concluding our recent situations, I realized that Fiona would not return for two reasons: Number 1.) She didn't know where we lived, 2.) Who would want to go back to Chicago after these events? Bombing in the town center, torture of people, interrogating them to try and get information about my whereabouts. I only found out about the tortures a couple of days ago. These people used to be Abnegation, or what was left of it. And they all knew me.

Peter noticed the bounce in my walk decrease over the days and approached me carefully one afternoon. He confronted me about the attacks on the innocent civilians, evidently trying to make me feel better. It didn't work. I started blaming myself for everything (because why wouldn't I?) and said that I was responsible for their fate. I said that if they had me already, lots of people would still be alive. He was startled for a moment, thinking that was going to give myself up to the rebels. I told him I wouldn't. I promised him I wouldn't. Just like I promised Tobias I wouldn't go to Erudite. The difference is that I don't want to go. I don't want to sacrifice myself.

I stand in front of the stove, preparing an unlikely-to-be-edible-dinner. The steam from the pan rises and strokes my face. I grab a wooden spoon and scoop up the meaty mixture, blowing on it as I put a hand under the spoon.

"It smells delicious," Peter says behind me. He always tries to give me confidence in cooking. As he wraps his arms around me, I hold the spoon over my shoulder and wink at him.

"Try it," I say. He blows on the hot food before taking some with his mouth, smacking his lips together. I await the disgust to show on his face, but he conceals it well.

"Add more salt," he offers. I put the spoon back into the pan as he kisses my shoulder.

"It needs more than salt," the giggles rise from within me as he squeezes my hips. It tickles and I push back against his body.

"I should be back soon," he promises, letting me go. After I put the lid on the pan, I turn to face him. What will he do at work?

"Don't be late though," I warn, "Dinner is almost ready." His eyes light up when he sees me smile. I wonder what it is like for him. To be living with me and constantly making me feel like myself again. It must be hard.

"I won't be late," he says, leaning in to passionately kiss me. I return the kiss, holding him tightly.

Peter left. I am alone in the kitchen. The food smells delicious but I know that if I decide to taste it, it will be vile. I put my hands on my hips and watch the steam try to escape from the gap between the pan and the lid.

My heart leaps in my chest when I hear the doorbell ring. This is the first time that I heard it. Who could it be? It can't be Peter, unless he is messing about again. I tuck a knife into the pocket in my apron and walks towards the front door cautiously, trying not to make the wood creak beneath me.

I glance up to the peep hole in the door and make a silent leap towards it. By standing on my tip-toes and squinting, I see the person behind the door. It is a man. And he looks harmless. There is a bottle of wine in his hand. I furrow my eyebrows when his face comes into view.

It's Nick.

Without having a second thought, I unlock the door for him and open it up. I am greeted with a genuine smile. "Hey," he exclaims, presenting me with the bottle in his hand.

"Hi," I greet back, taking it from him. I take my time to digest the settings. Then I furrow my eyebrows, "What are you doing here?"

"I just figured I would join you and Peter. Figured we would celebrate your new apartment," he points to the wine, "My favourite."

I smile up at him and step to the side to let him inside. He runs a hand through his perfect golden hair, flashing his biceps at me. To distract myself, I stretch the bottle out in front of me and pretend to read what is on it. Nick kicks off his shoes and closes the door. Then a question rises in my throat.

"How did you know where we lived?" Nick leans against the wall before answering. His eyes scan my body first, landing on the pocket in which the knife lies in. I swing my hand over it, pretending there is nothing there.

"I picked this place out for you," he says, staring into my eyes. They burn with such intensity that my eyes become glued to his with curiosity.

"You did?" I ask, not really paying attention to what he is talking about.

"Yes," he says, "This is the safest place in Chicago. Nobody would find you here. Sometimes I work along with the organization team, so I offered to help you guys out. I figured that you'd appreciate it." He figures a lot, I noticed.

Did he know how crappy this apartment is before he picked it out for us? I suppose none of that matters as long as we can't be located.

I clear my throat and smile slightly before starting to walk into the kitchen. "You are right on time. I'm making lasagne." I call over my shoulder. I hear the sound of a zipper, which I suppose is his jacket. Quickly, I take out two glasses and place them on the table along with the bottle. I don't know what it is, but there is a sudden desire to please Nick rising up inside of me. He still hasn't entered the kitchen. I lean over the table slightly to try and see him in the corridor, but just as I do that, he appears in the doorway. We exchange smiles before taking a seat.

"Thank God, I'm starving," he breathes, leaning against the back of his chair.

"Doesn't your sister cook for you?" I ask, glancing at him quickly. This is my chance to find out how honest Peter was. Is Goldie really Nick's sister? I feel awful for doubting him, but something doesn't make sense. Something tells me he is lying about something.

"I don't live with my sister," he answers, eyeing me curiously, "Have I ever told you about Goldie?"

"No, but Peter did," I reply.

"Ah, of course he did," What is that supposed to mean? "By the way, where is Peter?"

"He went to the safe house," I say, my heart pounding at this conversation. What happened to me? I don't like talking about Goldie, or Fiona. Apparently, Peter has influenced me more than I thought possible. His jealousy traits have passed on to me.

"Is he gonna be there long?" he picks up his glass and starts twirling it between his fingers.

"No," I croak out, standing up. This is all too silly. I have to get a grip. I try to slow my heart rate down by taking a couple of deep breaths. When I have the strength, I pick up the bottle of wine and open it with a 'pop', pouring the rich red color into our glasses. Nick toasts me with his and I tilt mine to the side before taking big gulps of the wine.

"So," he starts, putting down his glass, "Do you need any help with the cooking?" I am about to protest but he stands up and strides over to the stove. My mouth is still open, so I talk.

"I'm not very good at it," is all I manage. I am mesmerized when Nick lifts the lid off the pan and dips a spoon into the mixture. He licks some off, nodding in appreciation. His Adam's apple bobs up and down.

"Do you have green pepper?" His eyes meet mine across the kitchen. I turn around against my will and open the fridge, taking out the bag of peppers. He takes his pick when I place the bag next to him. "Cut this one," I catch the big pepper he has tossed to me and nod.

I take out a chopping board and start cutting. Slight dizziness takes over me, so I prop my knee up onto one of the chairs to keep my balance. That wine is stronger than I thought.

I chop the vegetable in silence until it is scattered all over the chopping board in little pieces. One falls to the floor. My reaction is too slow when I try to catch it.

"It's alright, use what you've got," Nick says behind me. I nod to myself and bring the chopping board over to him, careful not to trip up on my own feet.

A ridiculous thought comes to me. What if Nick spiked my drink? I nearly laugh out loud. I would have noticed that. Besides, he drank some too and he seems fine. I watch as his talented hands sprinkle the bits of peppers into the meat in the pan. He closes the lid, turning to look at me. His eyes are alert. More alert than Peter's usually are.

I let out a chuckle as he rests one of his hands on my cheek, keeping my head from falling.

"You don't look well, Tris," a smirk plays on his lips. Maybe it is because I begin laughing. I cover my face with both of my hands.

"I'm sorry," I calm down slightly, "I don't know what it is. I've… I've…" I try to stop talking. I try and try but the stutters keep coming out. And so do the words. Then they start forming sentences.

"What is it?" he asks calmly.

"I'm so scared," I say, feeling a sharp shock at the back of my neck, "I've been so scared lately. And… And Peter is doing his best to help me but I… ah!" I grip the back of my neck as the pain returns. Nick seems to look worried and kneels in front of me as if talking to a small child. He puts his hands on the sides of my thighs, his eyes begging for answers.

"What do you want to tell me?" his voice is so calm.

"I want to move away. I want to leave Chicago with Peter… but I know it wouldn't be right. I can't just leave." It feels better to tell the truth. The feeling is familiar. It feels like truth serum. Except I have not been injected.

"You want to leave Chicago?" he rises back to his feet, cupping my face in his hands. I should feel uncomfortable, but I don't.

"Yes," I answer immediately.

"Tris, it's okay if you feel that way. I would want to leave too." I smile at his comforting words.

"I feel sick," I confess, leaning into him. I lean so much that I end up being pressed against his chest. He hugs me tightly, rubbing my back in soothing circles. Something doesn't make sense. I want to think to myself, but somehow I start talking. And talking and talking. "Is this the truth serum?"

"Yes," his answer surprises me. I jump back slightly and stare up at him.

"You gave me truth serum?" He nods, making me feel worse, "Why? What is wrong with you?"

"I needed to know. You'll understand why soon enough." He replies, taking a step back.

"Nick, why would-…" he cuts me off my taking the knife out of the pocket in my apron and placing it back into the cutlery drawer. I am baffled. Was he Erudite?

"Forgive me," he whispers.

"I'm not mad at you," And it's the truth. I am not mad at him. I was dying to talk to somebody about this. It couldn't be Christina. She would have gone insane if I told her what was inside my head.

"I want you to know that you can trust me, alright?" I nod, even though I don't trust anybody. "I'm just trying to keep you safe."

My surroundings start to become clearer. The serum has worn off. I look at Nick with fresh eyes and notice something I haven't noticed before: Honesty.

Either that, or he is the master of disguise.

**Hmmmmm, what are our impressions on Nick? Tell me what you thought in the reviews.**


	23. Chapter 23

Nick has agreed to forget about what happened. I don't know what was going through my mind, but something about him really gets to me. I think I could trust him. We still needed something to drink during dinner, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be truth serum infested wine. I put the bottle away in a cupboard and took out a fine brand of champagne. Nick opened it as carefully as possible before pouring us a drink.

Peter still hasn't returned, but we left out a spare glass for him on the table. I sip my champagne, feeling the traces of truth serum disappear with it down my throat. What is odd is that Nick hasn't been acting too sorry, like he already knew that I would forgive him. We closed the whole subject. I made a promise that I wouldn't tell Peter about what happened. He would probably push Nick out of the window and probably stay angry at me for the rest of his life.

"See, you could be a chef if you didn't forget to include certain ingredients in the recipe," Nick slurs, flashing me a seductive smirk.

"Oh my God, no-…"

"I'm serious!" he exclaims as I laugh. The alcohol has made me a little tipsy.

"The lasagna was amazing, I'm telling you," he says.

"You're just saying that," I place a hand under my chin as I look at him. His leg is touching mine under the table. I flinched when I first felt it, but then I got used to it more and more. He shakes it from time to time, making my leg shake too.

"No, I'm serious," his sensual purr keeps me awake.

Suddenly, we hear the front door open. Peter. I lean back in my seat casually, staring at the door frame, expecting his figure to fill it. Eventually it does. His face flushes with worry so I smile to make it feel more like home. He smiles back.

"Hey," I stand and cross the room to kiss him passionately. I've missed him. His absence made me realize just how much I love him all over again. His lips taste different, but so do mine. He kisses me back slowly and cautiously. I almost forget about Nick, but then he clears his throat.

"Peter," he greets, making my boyfriend break our kiss.

"What's up?" Peter stretches his arm out, shaking Nick's hand while I'm stood in between them. I step back slightly and keep a firm grip on Peter's arm.

"Nick came to visit us," I look up at him, "He brought a bottle of champagne too." And so the lies begin. Guilt chews me up and spits me out onto the hard pavement.

"Did you finish cooking?"

"Yeah," I nod my head towards the now cooling pan, "I'll serve you some."

As Peter and Nick fire up a conversation at the table, I scoop some lasagne onto a large plate. I hear them talking about work, but it has nothing to do with me. I run my fingers across the edge of the plate to buy me some time. Going back to the table where my boyfriend and an extremely attractive guy is sitting does not sound right to me. I mentally kick myself for having these thoughts. I feel nothing towards Nick. Nothing. Maybe he is just a person I can be honest with, even if it requires truth serum. In the end, it makes me feel better.

I bring the plate back to the table, laying it in front of Peter. He nods at me before I let myself sit down. I sit close to him. As close as possible to Peter, as far away as possible from Nick. Peter doesn't not stop talking, and for a second I think that he doesn't notice me. I lean my knee against his and to my relief he places a hand on it under the table.

I lick my lips when Peter finishes his meal. Nick shoots a smile at me from across the table which I secretly accept.

"We have an army," Nick says, "Two thousand people for sure." He picks up his glass and swallows the last contents.

"Are they trying to communicate with us?" Peter asks, "How will we know when to fight?"

"We don't know, but whenever they strike, we will be ready." A crease appears between Nick's eyebrows. For once he is being serious.

"Right," Peter trails off. I feel his hand drape around my shoulders and smile without really smiling. People are going to die because of me. If I had let myself get killed that night with Tobias, none of this would be happening.

"Wow, it's late," Nick speaks up, widening his eyes at his wristwatch with a grin, "Thank you for having me, Tris." My cheeks become hot, and my eyes cast down. I hope Peter doesn't take this the wrong way. Did he say that on purpose?

I nod quickly as he stands up. Peter and I copy him like monkeys, murmuring among ourselves. We all scramble into the corridor. I watch Nick put on his work boots and jacket, turning to grin at me like an idiot.

The next thing I know is that he has his arms wrapped around me, and his face nuzzled in my hair. I am too stunned to hug him back but after an awkward two seconds, I do. I feel Peter's eyes burn into my back. Fuck. Shit. Crap.

Nick mumbles a 'goodbye'. A gesture like this would have caused me to melt but instead I shatter into a million pieces. After what felt like an hour, he pulls away and shoots a glance at Peter. I barely hear him say bye to him. Maybe it's because of the ringing in my ears. I think I might pass out.

Finally, he leaves and shuts the door behind him. The stillness in the air compresses my whole body and I. Can't. Move.

I don't say anything. Neither does Peter. One of us has to start.

Being the responsible one in the relationship, I turn around slowly, expecting to see him glaring daggers. He takes me aback with his stare. Instead of rage, there is acceptance and sadness. He looks like a scolded puppy. Even some of his hair is sticking up. Did he run his hand through it?

"Did you invite him?" is what he says after the silence.

"No," I reply immediately, shaking my head, "He came here himself. He wanted to drop by and talk."

Of course he didn't believe that. His expression remains the same. No revelation has hit him. My heart stops for a second as I observe his face. Then my feet do their thing and drag me towards him. My hands squeeze his shoulders when I am close enough and run up to his neck slowly.

"I know what you're thinking," this makes him look up at me, "but we're just friends, I promise. I'd never do anything like that." One of my hands runs into his hair, trying to soothe him. He furrows his eyebrows at me as if something isn't clear to him. "Do you believe me?"

His face softens and he breathes a sigh, "Yeah, I do," I feel his hands on my hips, "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," I whisper, pressing my forehead against his. Well, the tables have turned quickly.

"I doubted you, I'm sorry," he whispers back. I press my lips against his as an apology for everything. I won't let him blame himself. He knows so little. If he knew the truth, his opinion would be so different right now.

I kiss him passionately, letting him press me into a nearby wall. It is not rough. He goes gentle. A smirk plays on my lips when he grips the back of my head. Nevertheless, I continue to peck his lips repeatedly despite his hard tugging. Finally, I let him pull me back and stare into his eyes.

They are so deep.

I wish I could drown in them.

**A foreshadowing quote in the end there...**

**Some of you will hate me, but I will not change the course of the story xD You have to deal with the rain, if in the end you want the rainbow ;) Review 3**


	24. Chapter 24

A week later, we were all called into the safe house. It was an emergency. Al told us that the rebels could attack at any moment, so we had to be prepared. I look down at the gun in my hand as Al talks me through how to use it. As if I don't know.

Peter is standing near the door with what looks like a machine gun slung around his shoulder. He gives me a shrug, as if to say that he has no idea what is going on, and I smirk.

Christina stands next to me, eyeing the weapons laid out on the metal table in front of us. We can take a few for self-protection in our home. I put the gun on safety-mode and toss it onto the table, glancing at Al.

"I don't plan on killing anybody," I say, receiving a nudge from Christina. She stares at me in mock shock and nods towards the weapons.

"Tris, if you are planning on dying, please give me a chance to thump you," I jump away when she raises her hand and we both laugh.

"This isn't a joke," Al speaks up, glaring at us, "We are lucky enough to have these weapons, so I suggest you use them."

I look down like a scolded child and pick up a heavy gun slowly. Christina does the same.

When Al told us that he was getting this place refurbished, he was lying. Well, he got a pair of new chairs if that counts. But the surroundings are the same: dirty; plain and depressing.

"Do you even know when they are going to attack?" Peter asks. I look over at him to see that he has put his weapon down on a chair and folded his arms.

"No, but if they are as smart as we think they are, it should be in less than a week," Al confirms. Nothing is certain. I don't see how our team can still be so confident.

Al folds his arms, making the tattoos swerve on his dark skin.

I hear claws scratching the metal floor and a shiver goes up my spine. Phil has found a bug. A smirk crosses my face when he tries to sniff it up with his enormous snout. As soon as the creature tickles his nose, Phil sits up and sneezes.

"We are heading out on a mission tonight," Al says, sparking my interest, "There is a suspicious base on the outskirts of Chicago which we want to investigate. There is a high probability we will find a few rebels there. There was a signal passing this building by which they are trying to communicate and most of the power came from there. Peter, you are welcome to join."

I widen my eyes at Peter as he nods. There is no way I am letting him go.

"No way," I fire. Al turns to look at me. The flare in his eyes is real. He is pissed off.

"What?" he spits.

"Peter is not going anywhere. He is staying with me."

"You do not make the decisions here." Al answers.

"You said yourself that Peter is better off being near me. It keeps both of us safe-… You have thousands of men to choose from!" I wave my arms around in frustration.

"If I say Peter goes with us, he goes with us. As far as I am concerned, he is one of the best athletes on the team." This evicts a snort from Christina. I ignore her and tuck my gun into my belt.

"Then take me with you-"

"Not a chance." Al replies without second thought. "We are keeping you safe. And you are not leaving this base until I say so."

"I don't want to take orders from a-"

"Peter, shut her up." Al interrupts. I am surprised when Peter takes me by the arm and leads me out of the room. I groan loudly and yank my arm back, pressing my back against a wall. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

"You alright?" he asks calmly, running his hand down my arm. I almost laugh.

"You are his puppet. No, I am not alright!"

"Calm down, Tris," Peter says when he leans in closer to me, "The mission is not even that dangerous. You'll see. Christina will keep you company and I will tell Nick to do the same."

"Oh, that's great (!)" I say sarcastically.

"I thought you liked him," he suggests. I furrow my eyebrows up at him. What kind of game is he trying to play?

"His presence will not make me feel better," I am too angry to discuss anything. I just want to keep Peter with me. I can't let him risk his life like this. Glancing down at our feet, I see that there is old, wet paper stuck to the ground. Suddenly, I feel cold. The rage has been my radiator until now.

"C'mere," he whispers. His arms wrap around me in one quick motion. I hug him back tightly, letting him kiss the space between my shoulder and neck. "It will be quick. I promise. We just want to see if there are any rebels there. If there are, we will bring them here and interrogate them, okay?"

"Okay," I agree, swallowing my say. I don't think I have a choice in anything these days.

The metal door squeaks open. I recognize the footsteps following the sound. They are quick and light.

"Tris," Christina's voice pulls me away from Peter. I smile at her when I see her checking my face, and she relaxes on sight. Unfortunately, I feel Peter tense up by my side. I don't have time for this.

"You can stop following her, y'know. She's a big girl." Peter states, rubbing my shoulder. By the gesture, he is trying to make me feel better but instead I feel his frustration flow into me.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Christina glares. I shake my head at her before smacking Peter's hand away from my shoulder.

"Stop it," I look up at him. His eyes turned different. Keeping his pride, he knits his eyebrows together.

"Go on then," he says, stepping back, "I'll be in the cafeteria if you ever need me." I watch him back up until he reaches a turn down the corridor. Then he disappears out of my sight. We are not even fighting. Maybe that is why I don't follow him.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be starting things," Christina apologizes, squeezing my right arm.

"No, it's not you," I say, running a hand through my hair. How am I going to survive this war if I can't even make peace between the most important people in my life?

"I've heard about what happened between you and Nick," I look up at her in confusion, shaking my head.

"Nothing happened between me and Nick," I say. It's the truth. Nothing did happen. If she somehow found out about the hug, then it is nothing. It was just a hug.

"Oh come on," she smirks, "He went to visit you at your place, don't you remember?"

"And? It's not like I slept with him."

"But you spent time with him. That counts." Her brown eyes light up and she hops from one foot to the other.

"Counts for what?" I almost laugh.

"You and I both know that Nick is the better option here. And if he likes you, then you can just get with him." I feel a pang of annoyance bash against me. It shows on my face because Christina steps back slightly and stops smiling.

"Can you stop being ridiculous?" I cross my arms, putting on my angry face.

"I just want what's best for you," she says. A laugh irrupts from within me. Christina is my best friend but when she starts saying things like that, I really don't know what to do with her. I don't even know what to do with myself.

After a while, she notices the frustration on my face and sighs, filling the room with a new sound. "Look, I'm sorry," she says again. Something in her voice tells me that she is about to break down, but she never does. "God, I'm the worst." Christina puts her face in her hands, running them up her forehead until they can grip her hair.

"Let's just not talk about Peter ever again, okay?" I am relieved to see her nodding. As easy as that, we close the conversation.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I see Peter in the cafeteria, swarming with soldiers. I push my way past them and sit down opposite him. He is the only one at his table. In his hand is a small coffee cup and it looks to be empty.

"Hey," I start. When I take my seat, he glances up at me, offering me a small smile.

"Hey," he repeats. For about five seconds I look around me. Nick is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Christina, but that is partly because I told her to give me some space. I reach over and take his hands in mine once he puts his cup down. They are harsh, but still warm. A grin spreads across my face when he starts rubbing my hands to get them to warm up. That is when I realize that they were freezing beforehand.

"When are we going home?" I ask, letting him kiss the top of my hands.

"Well, you can go whenever you want, but I am coming back tomorrow." I frown to myself, hoping that he wouldn't notice.

"Why tomorrow?" I take my hands back, intertwining my own fingers.

"The mission carries on through the night, but I should be back first thing in the morning."

At moments like these, I can't help but feel that this is our last encounter together. Peter looks very calm for a dead person. There is about a fifty percent chance that he will survive. He cannot concentrate when he shoots. I know that it would be better if they found the rebels but hopefully they will find that nobody is there.

"Babe, let's go," he whispers to me, causing me to look up at him.

"Where?" He does not reply, but gets up and drags me up with him. If I wanted to break free, I couldn't. His grip is too firm on my hand. "Where are we going?" I ask again.

I smile at some soldiers who are giving me playful slaps on the back as I follow Peter. We end up walking along a deserted corridor. I think that Peter was searching for somewhere to get me alone when he finally backed me up against a door and attacked my mouth with his.

I kiss him back longingly, running my hands through his tired hair. His scalp is surprisingly cold, so I try to radiate my heat onto it. My heartbeat quickens it's pace when Peter's hips press against mine. Should we be doing this? What if somebody sees us?

"I love you so much," his whispers tickle my neck. I am not required to say it back: he already knows. I cover his jawline in wet kisses as the door behind me opens and welcomes me in. We enter a small room that looks like a storage area. Peter shuts the door behind us with his foot, trapping all the negative energy in the silent corridors.

He quickly works at my belt, never letting his lips leave my neck. In return, I run my hands up his shirt, feeling the muscular bumps on his abdomen. My pants loosen around my waist, causing me to moan in relief. Figuring that Peter would want me to take them off, I start to slide them down my thighs. He stops me when they reach my knees.

"That's enough," his voice is hoarse like he has been screaming at the top of his lungs for the past hour. He presses his lips against mine again. One of his hands run up my shirt. It cups my breast through the thick fabric of the bra. I moan, "Turn around," he orders. I kiss him one last time before turning to face a shabby looking table. His hands continue exploring the front of my body, sometimes massaging my clit and sometimes skimming past my breasts.

"Oh, God, Peter," I should probably keep my voice down. Having no idea what area of the building this is, I'd be wary. I place my hands on the edges of the table when Peter bends me over. Suddenly, his thick length enters me, slowly at first. I become wet instantly.

My ass connects with his pelvic bone as he pounds into me. I moan as his hands squeeze my hips, forcing them to push backwards to meet his thrusts. The pleasure slowly builds up inside me as I close my eyes. I treasure the now. If this is the last time we do this, I want to remember it. Forever.

A groan escapes my lips, making the whole room vibrate. I gasp when Peter clamps his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. Somehow, this turns me on even more. The muscles in my hands are tightening, forcing me to grip the table harder. It bangs against the wall slightly during our passionate love-making session.

His hand does not stop me from moaning his name. Even though it might be muffled, it is still pretty loud.

"I'm gonna cum," Peter warns me with his strangled voice. I smirk against his hand when he starts repeating how much he loves me until he finally stops moving. I look over my shoulder to see his moist face. His eyes are closed and he is heavily panting. Oh.

The build up to the big climax did not go away, and when Peter slides out and presses his face against my entrance, I groan in pleasure. His tongue starts tracing patterns I do not recognize. It doesn't take long for him to tip me over the edge. When I cum, I do not hold back. My core tingles against his wet tongue, begging for more. He pulls away slowly, kissing his way up my back.

"This is one of the reasons why I can't die tonight."

The brutality in his voice makes me frown, but he softens the impact with a tight embrace.

**I did not know how to finish this chapter, so hopefully what you see there will do :P Review and tell me what more you want to get out of this story :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**The first bit is basically a flashback, just so that you are not confused :P**

_I breathed. My lungs were on fire. I turned to look at Peter. Shock crossed his face. Four was dead. Nobody could ever believe it._

_The sirens around us were still blaring. Somehow they started to get louder and that is what woke me up. I darted up to my feet and stares at Peter. If we don't get out of here now, I thought, there would be too much waste of life for one day._

_"Go!" He suddenly yelled at me. I felt paralyzed. He had to hit me to bring me back to reality. Do it, I thought. Slap me across the face. Shove me against a wall. Peter simply grabbed my shoulders and shook me as hard as he could. I was pretty sure I bit my tongue. But the pain of that could never compare to the pain of losing Tobias. _

_He grabbed my arm rougher than I anticipated and started dragging me to the nearest exit. I couldn't even take a look at where I was going, which made me trip over my own feet a few times. We ran and ran and ran until I felt the fresh air of the new morning in my lungs. Caleb was on the floor in the distance, probably catching his breath. Christina, Cara, Nita and Matthew were still running from the building. It was going to explode. Matthew activated the self-destruction mode since the rest of our plans failed. Everybody got out except from David and Four._

_When we finally stopped, Peter released me and at the impact, I dropped to my knees. He never left though. He stayed by my side when we heard the explosion. The red lights reflected onto the glass in front of me. I didn't need to turn around to know there was fire everywhere. I breathed in the fumes, gripping the grass beneath me. Funnily enough, I did not hear from Peter a year after these events. I didn't love him at the time, but I knew that there was something there. If not love, then friendship._

During my time alone in the compound, I got very bored, so I decided to wander. Peter has left for the mission with a few other soldiers. I have no idea where Christina is (although she is probably flirting with somebody), so I am left to wander on my own. The corridors seem more empty now. There weren't even that many soldiers leaving for the mission but it seems like most of them left.

There is a door labeled '_Janitor's closet_' when I turn right down another corridor. We don't have janitors. Why would we need janitors in a war zone? Curiously, I push the door open and see a perfectly good couch. I push it further, revealing the bright light coming from a TV screen. And when the door is all the way open, I see Nick standing near the electronic device, pressing some buttons at the back of it. Quickly, I grab the handle and try to close the door before he notices me but it is too late.

"Tris, hey," he calls. I don't feel like talking to him. Nevertheless, I step into the mysterious room and fake a smile.

"Hey," I greet, "What's all this?"

"My little hideout," he chuckles, stepping away from the TV and crossing over to me with his hands in his pockets, "I don't spend a lot of time at home, so... got a few things to entertain myself here," he gestures behind him. It is at the moment when he is glancing behind him, do I notice suspicious radio objects near the television screen, "Come in, please."

The door clicks shut behind me as I walk over to the couch. Hesitantly, I take a seat. Nick smiles at me before resuming his task of 'fixing his radio'. I squint at the back of the room where it is too dark to see anything. "Why is it so dark in here?"

"I prefer it that way," Nick answers, picking up a screwdriver and jabbing a cable with it. I raise an eyebrow. "You nervous?"

"About what?" I want to lean back against the back of the couch, but the environment is too eerie to allow me to relax.

"Peter," he says, "The over-night mission, I mean." He looks at me with curiosity. I simply shrug my shoulders.

"He'll be okay, I know it," I mumble. I pick up the tips of my hair and start twirling the strands around my fingers. He will be okay.

"Yeah, of course, just don't worry about things like that. It's his job." I nod to myself, making no effort to be polite and look at him. I am exhausted. It feels like it is nearly midnight. If I go to sleep, I may have a nightmare. Being in this nightmare is better. At least I can control what happens.

"Do you want a drink?" I immediately shake my head. Poisoned wine? No, thank you. "Are you sure?" I shake my head again. There is the sound of a tool being put down before I feel Nick sit next to me on the couch. "Talk to me, what's wrong?"

"I'm just tired," I use up the last fraction of my energy to look up at him. Finally, I lean back on the couch, softening the expression on his face.

"Go to sleep, you're safe here," he confirms. I don't believe that.

"No, I'd rather not," a chuckle surfaces from my mouth. His ripped jeans are loose. I blink heavily as I try to understand why he would take off his uniform. I didn't think they were allowed to do that in the safe house.

"Go on," he insists, brushing a strand of hair from my face, "When you wake up, Peter will be here. You don't have to stay awake. It will get boring."

Suddenly, I feel brave.

"Do you have any sleeping pills?" I ask. Nick smirks in response and stands up, going for the drawer in the cupboard on the wall, "They stop me from dreaming." I add.

"Yeah, I understand," I swallow the pills with some tap water. He isn't smart enough to add serum to tap water right? To be honest, I am too tired to care.

He takes out a blanket out of nowhere and covers me in it as I fully lay down on the couch. My eyelids are too heavy. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is Nick's black silhouette towering over my body.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

There is a sting in my vain where my arm bends. I open my eyes just enough to see the black ceiling. A drug overtakes my body. It flushes through my bloodstream, evicting a moan from my mouth. "Shh," I hear. My mind becomes foggy. I am still tired.

This is a new feeling. Somebody's hand is holding my wrist in place as they try to inject me with something. That is what I feel. There is no other way to describe it. A needle in my vain, pushing a chemical round and round my body, taking me to a new place. Is this a dream? I turn my head to the right and see a man kneeling by my side. He looks like Nick. I can't be sure. The chemical makes my vision blur. But it feels so good. I feel so relaxed and free and spacey. If I could just lift my head, I am sure I would be able to hover.

"You're okay, go back to sleep," he whispers. I moan quietly, trying to reach out and touch the man's face, but he seems so far away.

"This is a dream, right?" I laugh forcefully, my mind floating somewhere else.

"Right... just relax now," the voice definitely belongs to Nick. I don't get the point in this. Is this a simulation? A dream? If so, where is the monster? Where is the pain? Why am I not being hurt?

Before I lose consciousness, a sudden bang sounds in my head. It is as if everything falls into place. As if I suddenly know everything. The monster... he is right here... and the feeling, the feeling... it cannot be good. And this is not a dream. I am so positive it is not a dream.

My eyes close and my mind dims into the dark night. What was I just thinking? I can't remember. I can't remember.

**These sort of chapters are in order to get you thinking. I am not supposed to be answering all your questions. It will all hopefully fall into place towards the end ;) **


	26. Chapter 26

There is hubbub on the other side of the wall. _They're back._

I dart up from where I was lying and hastily look around. I am in a dark room. Wait... what happened yesterday? I remember reading the sign '_Janitor's closet_'. I remember pushing the door open and seeing Nick fixing his radio devices. We had a talk. It's all blurry but we definitely talked. And then I fell asleep. I asked for a sleeping pill. That would explain why my head is all groggy. Touching my forehead, I realize that it is not numb. That is a good sign.

Quickly, I run to the front door and open it. There are soldiers marching down the corridors in a never ending line. The sight baffles me, and gives me a little thump at the back of my head. I scan the faces for Peter but I do not see him. Some of them are laughing. Some are telling jokes to their friends while they hug their weapons to their chests. I don't think death was present. Everybody seems too happy.

After I shut the door behind me, I start walking against the flow of the line. These faces are unfamiliar. My heartbeat picks up when I see Jimmy among the soldiers. I smile to myself and carry on walking. My heart starts burning, threatening to burn through my chest and fall out. Still no sign of Peter. I turn and this time walk with the soldiers, my eyes darting from face to face to face. Some of them have their heads down and I have to make myself smaller to see what face belongs to which body.

I pick up my pace to a jog until I see the start of the line. Al is right at the front. Behind him are his minions. But a certain one catches my eye. Jet black hair, bad posture, bad choice of a gun. It's Peter. A smile spreads across my face and I shout his name. When he looks over his shoulder, my heart leaps up again and starts beating. He returns my smile and starts towards me. I do the same.

I throw my arms around his neck, squeezing my eyes shut. I was once told that we close our eyes at the most beautiful moments, like kissing. Christina told me that. And God, do I want this to be beautiful.

"I missed you," he whispers against my neck. Everything else can wait. The rebels and the war.

"I missed you more," I crash my lips against his, probably receiving a few bruises.

"Oh, God... my baby," Everything else is inaudible, except from the way his lips plant kisses onto my skin. I think Peter dropped his gun because I don't feel anything hard against his waistline.

He is here. And he is alive. And he is here.

"Are you hurt?" I ask, cupping his face in my hands. I see his eyes for the first time in six hours. They shoot their energy into me.

"No," he answers, repeatedly stroking my hair. I fall into him again, pressing my face against his body.

Gradually, I get back down from my high and the stamp of boots against concrete echo down the corridors. I open my eyes, watching the soldiers pass by over Peter's shoulder. To my relief, he stays perfectly still. It doesn't seem like he is rushing to go anywhere. Good.

Everything falls silent. It takes me a moment to realize that the corridors are empty and that we are the only people standing here. I look up at Peter and see him smiling down at me. His eyes are not smiling. I can see that it has nothing to do with me, but I ask anyway: "What happened?"

"Let's go somewhere else, okay?" he whispers. We make our way to the coffee room and take a seat at a small table. There were a few soldiers here, but now they have disappeared to somewhere else. Got a drink and were gone. I wonder if they all have a special hangout room.

I sip the water Peter gave me and observe his features. I don't care how bad the mission went, as long as he is okay.

"We didn't find anybody," he tells me, "We broke down their door and found out nobody actually inhibited that building. It makes no sense." He knits his eyebrows together and squeezes my hands on the table, "It would be legit if they tried to get to you, right? Distracted part of our team and captured you, but they didn't. Heck, they don't even know our location."

I listen hard, trying to make sense of everything. They didn't capture me. Nobody captured me, right? I am right here. I was with Nick the entire night. Maybe the rebels failed. Maybe part of their plan didn't work. If it even was a plan. In that case, why would they try to suggest to us where they live? **(A/N: HINTY HINT HINT.)**

"It doesn't make any sense," I blurt out, deep in thought.

"No, it doesn't." Peter traces patterns on the top of my hands, staring down at them. I don't move. When I try to think and figure out the mystery of the rebels, my head begins to throb. It is as if somebody programmed me not to think. To not remember. To not be myself.

It feels like a simulation with the attack on Abnegation. Except that this time it might be affecting the Divergents as well. I don't know.

**Sorry for the short chapter. :P I simply want you guys to feedback and let me know if you want this story to go on. I know most of you do, but I get the feeling that some of you are losing interest. This isn't a novel, and I am not a professional writer. I am here to make mistakes.**

**Just please review if you want me to continue writing. I want to be writing for someone. And if the majority of you are not interested, I will shorten this fanfic. Thanks :)**


	27. Chapter 27

**All of your questions will be answered in this chapter (hopefully). If not, they are yet to be answered. Nevertheless, read on and let the drama sink in.**

The pulse in my head shoots pain through my body. I run a hand through my hair in frustration. I have been getting these headaches for a while now. Paracetamol doesn't help. Ibuprofen doesn't help. Water doesn't help. My body is still wet from the shower. Lazily, I shrug a towel over my shoulders and walk to the bedroom. After pulling my underwear on, I decide to see what Peter is doing.

It is as silent as a graveyard except in this version of the graveyard, there is a slight tapping noise. I smirk at my boyfriend who is jerking the pen in his hand, from time to time chewing on the tip in concentration. There is a notebook in his lap.

"What are you doing?" I ask. When his eyes lift up to see me, they glue to my bare stomach. I can see that they want to shift away, but they just don't.

"Homework," he jokes, spreading his arms out for me. I walk into them and sit on his lap. He smells like anger and irritation. "I don't have a fucking clue what the rebels are up to. I am no detective."

"I know, I know," I put him at ease for a brief second.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," I say.

"Why are you half-naked?" I chuckle before I have time to answer, but even then he cuts me off, "Not that I mind or anything. Obviously, I don't mind. I prefer it like that."

"It's a bit hot," I say, running my hand across his shoulder. Peter puts his pen down and resumes the position of his hand on my hip.

"That is your excuse?" I nod with mock enthusiasm, making him laugh. It has been two days since the overnight-mission, since my weird nap with Nick, the coffee room conversation and the time when I ran into Christina's dog, knocking him into a wall. He whined at me as I threw myself onto the ground to apologize. Anyway, that is not my point. It felt like forever since we last visited the safe-house. We had an eventful time there, but not much has been going on in our apartment: just the basics. Just life. I try to cook, fail. Peter discards the food and cooks. We eat. Then we shower (sometimes separately, sometimes together). Then eat again. Then fool around. I read, he watches me read. And then we sleep. Better than war, I suppose.

"Can you help me with a crossword?" he asks out of the blue. I raise an eyebrow.

"A crossword?"

"I was doing one a while ago, and got stuck," he says, "That would probably be the reason why I started to write about the rebels." He picks up a newspaper and holds it up with one hand, making sure I can see. "Here," he points to the section on the page, "The red one."

And then something clicks.

I was smiling before he showed me the paper. I would like to think that I am still smiling, but I can't be. All the muscles on my face are relaxed. And I can't move them. I try to tense them, but it is impossible. I flush in fear, staring at a spot on the paper, Peter's voice inaudible to me. A second later, all the sounds flood back into my system.

"…it isn't that hard right? Figured I'd go to you for help first." He laughs, patting a spot on my leg. What is going on? Why am I not able to look where I want? Talk whenever I want? Do something.

"Tris," he repeats. It takes me a moment to realize that he has been saying my name, "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, just dozing off," I would have said. But I still can't move my lips.

Suddenly, I feel myself rising, without actually meaning to rise. I get off Peter's lap and start walking somewhere. But where? Please notice me, I think, please do something. I do not have control over my body.

"Babe, where are you going?" he asks. Even though I can't see his face (because he is behind me), I can just imagine what he must be looking like. Pale-faced. Tousled hair. Wide-eyed.

I stare ahead of me as I (A.K.A not I) walk into the bedroom. My clothes are laid out on the bed, prepared earlier by me (A.K.A the real me) before I got into the shower. There is a black top and ripped dark pants. I notice myself reaching for the top first. It slides onto my body effortlessly. What am I doing? I try to think hard, but my head begins to throb again. I cannot take control no matter how hard I try. That is when I notify myself of the painful truth.

I am in a simulation.

But who is controlling me? It doesn't not surprise me when the noun 'rebels' pops into my head. Of course, it's the rebels. They want me to make my way to their headquarters. That makes things a lot easier, doesn't it? Only two mysteries remain though: I was not injected. So how is my body being controlled? And also, if this is really a simulation… why can't I wake myself up? I am Divergent.

"Okay, you're scaring me," Peter brings me back to reality. I want to look at him, but my eyes disobey my orders. I have managed to get fully dressed while I was deep in thought. I am now walking towards the front door. Uh-oh. Hurry, Peter. Don't let me walk out. I know you are not that bright, but please keep me in doors. I am in a simulation! I scream inside.

I feel myself sigh in relief when Peter blocks my way. Automatically, my feet stop moving and my eyes stare ahead of me. Through his body. I try my best to see the features on his face. He cups my head in his hands as he gazes into my eyes. He is trying to figure something out. I can tell. I pray that I don't start being violent. This is one of the rare occasions where I actually hope that he is stronger than me.

"Look at me," he says, "Look into my eyes, Tris." But how? Tell me how.

He stays frozen for a moment, but then steps aside. Like a robot, I start walking again. Towards the hook where my jacket hangs first. My hand picks it up and without permission from my brain, it slides onto my shoulders. Shoes next. I can see it coming. The simulation tells me to step into my trainers. I feel my foot rising, but before it sinks into the first shoe, Peter slaps it away.

My heartbeat rises in anticipation. He can do this. He can keep me indoors. I feel myself being lifted up into his arms. My head rests against his hard shoulder, bumping into it as he walks. I want to see his face so badly, and I want to be in control again. Is this how Four felt in the attack on Abnegation?

"It's alright, I won't let you go," he says. It is as if he can hear my thoughts.

I find myself tied down to a chair five minutes later. He was letting out sympathetic murmurs as he secured the sticky tape around my arms. I stared into the distance like a zombie. I would do exactly the same thing if I was him. Restrain him.

"Hey, Al, send us a doctor!" I heard Peter yell down his professional walkie-talkie. The fear inside me rises as I think of what would happen if somebody switched me to the violent program. Can the rebels see me? I hope they can't. Having Tris Prior restrained near a bed when you want her to arrive at your headquarters is not a good sight to see. And it would result in a possible fight. "Just fucking send someone, I don't know what is up with her!"

After Peter drops his walkie-talkie, he straddles my lap and cups my face in his hands. I want to cry. To let him know that I am still in there. I am still in this vacant body.

"Tris, baby, please try to wake up..." his lips press against my forehead, "It'll be okay, you'll be okay, I promise. You'll be okay." And that is what he kept repeating over and over again until I saw a figure appearing in my peripheral vision. My eyes can't focus on him, so I try to make out who the man is from the corner of my eye.

"Tris Prior," he grumbles. He sounds old. There is something white on his face and I get the feeling that it's a beard. Just as he leans down next to me, three more men come into the room. I recognize one of them by the voice.

"What the fuck happened?" Al.

"I-I don't know! She just went blank!" Peter explains, sitting by my side and kissing one of my hands. The soldiers scatter themselves around our tiny bedroom, all eyes on me. "Can you do anything?"

The "doctor's" hands are gentle. He caresses my neck reassuringly before nodding more to himself that anyone else. It takes him a minute to create a dialogue of diagnosing me, and when he finally speaks, I feel my heart stop.

"She is in a simulation. There are neurotransmitters in her blood, which are networking her by some sort of system. It's a good thing she isn't programmed to be violent. Violent Sims are hard to stop."

"You are going to bring her back, right?" Peter panics next to me. The doctor sighs and picks up his suitcase. I hear a clatter of equipment as he nods.

"Yes, but it will be painful."

I want to look at what he is taking out. Is it a needle? I can handle needles. What does he mean by painful. Fortunately, the doctor never stops talking, which I know has a soothing impact on Peter.

"It will be quick," he confirms, "I will inject her with neurotransmitter repellent which with cause all the artificial anomalies in her body to form a tiny clump. It will then start breaking through her tissue. We need to watch carefully which part of her body starts twitching and I will discard the transmitters from her blood. She can't tell us what hurts, but her natural reflexes can." The doctor taps the needle before inserting it into my neck. I imagine the liquid flowing through my veins, picking up the poison on it's way.

"Why is she susceptible to suggestion?" Another man speaks up. I don't know that voice, but I am sure Peter does. "I thought she was Divergent."

"It's a new and improved model," the doctor replies, "There have been two cases of this. Two individuals were experimented on before anyone knew that the rebels could use these neurotransmitters."

"Why didn't we know this?" Al asks angrily.

The doctor's reply is simply and humorous: "Nobody thought it mattered."

Suddenly, pain strikes at my leg. I groan loudly, partly because of the pain and partly because it feels good to be in control of my vocal chords again. I strain my eyes and they move. Finally. Peter cups my face in his hands, looking directly into my eyes. I am confident that my pupils dilated because his did too. "What? Where is it?" I try to talk but my mouth cannot form the words yet. I try plan B and kick one of my legs up slightly, catching the attention of the doctor. He rips part of my pants away and inserts a new needle into my skin. Slowly, the anomalies are sucked out of my bloodstream, and I move my eyes to see my leg just in time of the doctor taking the needle back out. There is a massive bruise around where I was punctured. I guess he really meant the phrase "breaking through her tissue".

"Babe, look at me," Peter whispers. I turn my head towards him, watching as he flashes his smile. "Are you okay?" I nod in a daze, gulping down the moisture in my mouth. I would have kissed him by now but Al interrupted with his pissed off speech.

"Who the hell would do this? She was with us the whole time! She was in the safe base, or in her apartment and the only person who was always with her was Peter." I bite my lip at Al's face. Is he accusing my boyfriend?

"Tris, let me help you up," the third man extends his hand to me, "His traits have kicked in again."

"Are you crazy?" That is the first thing I say after the simulation. Everyone looks at me in pure shock as Peter pulls me closer.

"I wouldn't hurt her," Peter says, "Obviously somebody else did this."

"How do we know you aren't lying, eh?" I presume the smallest soldier is the wittiest through his choice of dialogue. Still, that is not an exception to like him.

"He's not lying." I say my words slowly, glaring at the man.

"I will have to put these anomalies into the lab. Maybe the serum has induced memory loss." The doctor speaks up.

"Peter didn't do anything!" I yell, "And I'm pretty sure I would remember who injected me if I ever was injected."

"Not with the memory loss," the wit guy points to his temple, grinning mockingly at me. What is up with everyone?

"Do you remember who you spent time with?" Al asks, folding his arms. His voice is calm, but I know better.

"Nick, Peter, you..." I list, looking him straight in the eye. He nods slowly before looking at each person in the room for no longer than five seconds and answering.

"Then I will ensure those people you listed are put under truth serum. We will find out who is responsible sooner that way."

It wasn't Peter. So much for trust.

**Please review and notify me of your feelings :) Who is still confused? The answers I can give away will be listed in the next chapter before the story continues.**


	28. Chapter 28

**You guys guessed it. Well, most of you xD Nick is the one who injected Tris and he is working for the rebels. Tris doesn't know that because the serum wiped a part of her memory so that Nick would be safe from her knowing and ratting him out. **

"Why would I try to put my girlfriend into a simulation? Does anyone around here have common sense?" Peter asks, glaring at Al. He is the higher authority around here and when he tries to talk back, it unnerves me.

"Save your questions," Al says calmly, watching one of the soldiers tapping the needle with truth serum in it.

They have tried to gather everyone who had interactions with me in hope of finding the person who actually injected the neurotransmitters into me, allowing me to be controlled. I would tell them who it was, but apparently my memory has been wiped and I do not recall anything that could suggest I was drugged.

As far as I know, the latest suspects are Peter, Nick, Christina and the soldiers I do not know the names of yet. I will be acquainted to them in the truth trial. Al has figured that Nick is the most unlikely criminal. The person with the courage to do something like that would be Peter because of his history. He has tried to murder people, and was very aggressive, but he isn't now. Why can't they believe him? I am leaving Christina out of the question. She is my best friend, and even though they will interrogate her, she will not have a bad thing to say about herself.

I play with my fingers as Peter takes his seat near a table, muttering threats to himself. I was forced to sit on the other side of the 'Conference Room' (which I did not know existed in the safe house), just in case Peter tried to attack me. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at this remark. There are five other people in the room: two soldiers standing by my sides, two soldiers standing behind Peter and Al who is sat opposite the suspect.

I give Peter a small smile in hope of easing some tension. He smiles back.

"Why would you be nervous if you have nothing to hide?" Al asks, leaning forward on the table.

"I'm not. Let's just get this over with," Peter says. I sigh, remembering that he was Candor-born and was used to these trials. He has done this before. I clench my fists as the soldier behind Peter injects him with the truth serum. He scrunches his face up as perspiration becomes visible on his forehead.

"How are you feeling?" Al asks.

"Interrogated," Peter glares in his direction, running a hand through his hair.

"Let's begin then," I watch as Al leans back in his seat and takes a deep breath, "What's your name?"

"Peter… Hayes," he pauses slightly, getting accustomed to the serum.

"What faction are you from?"

"I was born in Candor and transferred to Dauntless at the Choosing Ceremony," his voice is steady. They have to ask these questions, right? Just to make sure that the interrogator knows when the suspect is lying and how he tries to hide the lie.

"Peter, when did you first meet Tris?"

"I first saw her at school… two years before the Choosing Ceremony," he furrows his eyebrows in concentration, "And we had a variety of classes together, but we didn't yet know each other. Then when we transferred to Dauntless, and that's when we first met." I release the air I was holding and glance at the ground before looking back at Peter. He has absolutely nothing to hide. But for the sake of people not thrashing away from him, I hope Al doesn't mention anything about him trying to kill me at one point.

"Did you try to harm Tris Prior in any way?" Well, crap. This is just what he needs. I watch Peter's face tense up and he releases a quiet groan as he holds back. Then he sighs and confesses.

"I did when we were initiates… but… ah, not… n-not when I found her on the road," Al notices his hesitation and decides to touch on the subject again.

"Harm her in what way, Peter?"

The soldiers near me step closer, evicting an eye roll from me. So protective. Peter glances in my direction, contemplating for a moment if he should say something. I nod towards him and he frowns.

"I tried to kill her," Peter confesses. Al raises his shoulders in panic, and I realize that this is brand new information to him. He looks my way before focusing on Peter again.

"Right…" Al trails off, sighing, "I assume that your feud is no longer present. I will trust Tris to come to me if you ever try to abuse her-"

"I'm not going to abuse my girlfriend!" Peter shouts, gripping the end of the table. I can feel his irritation.

"This case is closed," Al concludes, "Nick is next. Find him." He stands up and leaves the room without another word.

I get up and rush over to Peter, throwing my arms around him. He hugs me back tightly, letting all the tension induced by the trial leave him. I chew on my lip as he gets up without unwrapping his arms. The soldiers left the area, so I and Peter are the only ones here now.

"It's alright, they don't suspect you," I try to comfort him.

"Yeah, but they're going to keep an eye on me for sure," he says. My mind focuses on the culprit. It has to be one of the soldiers. My heart races at a thousand miles per hour. One of the soldiers is the rebel. And he is in the building.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Christina finds me an hour later in the coffee room. I tell her everything that has happened, from the point of me being in a simulation, to the point where Peter's trial ended. She listened to me carefully, nodding her head along as her hand played with Phil's ears. For a dog, he is very human-like. His eyes are like Christina's: brown and witty.

"I wonder who could have done it," she wonders, leaning her chin in the palm of her hand. I shrug at her and finish my drink, placing the cup in the middle of the table.

"Are you nervous for yours?" I ask. She laughs and shakes her head.

"No! It's ridiculous," she answers, "But I guess if it's just for precaution, nothing bad can happen. I will tell them everything but I doubt that I will end up confessing to being a rebel. Because you know… it's not true." I smirk at her. She's right; she won't hesitate like Peter did. She never tried to hurt me.

After a minute of staring into the distance, she begins: "I'm sorry for being a bitch. You can date whoever you want."

"Christina, we are past that now," I lower my voice mainly because Peter is in the corner of the room. I told him to join us, but he said he would rather hang himself than sit at the same table as, and I quote, "Christopher Loud-mouth".

"Yeah, I know but, I still feel kinds bad," she smacks Phil's snout as he starts chewing on her shoe. I smirk when her dog gives her a sad look and walks away to sit next to someone else.

"Don't, its fine," I say. I watch her polished fingernails dance around the top of her steaming cup. She hasn't touched her drink yet. I wonder how it is for her. This whole conflict with the rebels. Is she scared? Does she dismiss every hint of hazard? For all I know, she could be braver than me.

**Review :)**


	29. Chapter 29

We couldn't find Nick. He was supposed to be in the 'interrogation' room thirty minutes ago, but I guess he ditched his responsibilities. There is a reason why he is not turning up. Obviously, he has something to hide. I just can't believe it. Is it actually possible that Nick could have done this to me? Is he the rebel disguised in a soldier's uniform?

I think back to the times when we were together. He came into our apartment. He hugged me. _Hugged_ me. If he was the one who picked out an apartment for Peter and me, he could have had a plan. Did he install cameras? So that he could have seen me when I was in the simulation? I shiver at the thought. I was so stupid.

"They hate me," Peter says, "They don't trust me anymore."

I roll my eyes at him as I swing my legs in the air. We are sat on the top of the table in the longest corridor I have ever seen. The air here is eerie, but it cannot compare to the depression Peter feels. Therefore, I don't mind.

"You told them the truth, Peter. Truth is always brutal." I try to comfort him but it doesn't work. I am growing tired of his winging. No matter what I tell him, his mood would not change. Why do I bother?

"Yeah, I told them that I tried to kill you," he says solidly, "I don't think they would appreciate keeping a murderer within the safe house with Tris fucking Prior." I am about to scold him for the expletive he added to my name but when I turn to look at him, he has his head in his hands with his fingers pulling at his hair.

"You're not a murderer, so…" I trail off, tearing my eyes away from his fragile state. He sighs with irritation, and I almost yell at him for doing so.

"You don't get it," he states, looking up at me. I see tears pool in his eyes from the corner of my peripheral vision, "You just don't get it, Tris."

Okay, if he says anything else, I will yell at him.

How dare he? We are all afraid. All of us are in danger of being killed. He is a coward. I knew it before but now it is clearer than ever. It shouldn't matter if people know him for his true self. I'm sorry but did I have a choice in confessing about Will's murder? I had no choice. It was the only thing that kept me alive (gaining Candor's trust). Even though Peter didn't actually kill anybody, he still has the nerve to show his weakness. After I have the mini-rant in my head, I look back at Peter.

He has wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and cleared his throat. It takes him a moment to compose himself again.

"Do you want to go home?" his voice is back to normal, but his eyes are still vulnerable.

"Yeah," I answer bluntly, hopping off the metal table. He does the same and then wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. I hug him, letting all my anger flush away from my body.

"I love you," he says. I realize that he has noticed my frustration and is deciding to make me soft again. I sigh before replying.

"I love you too." A small smile plays on my lips when he pulls away from me. I stare at him for a moment before his lips meet mine and we kiss slowly.

We walk towards the exit, waving at a soldier who is in charge of guarding the boarders of the safe house. Peter has composed himself (finally), but he keeps running a hand down his face from time to time when I glance at him. There is a scanner near the metal doors which let you out of the building. I lean forward and present my face to the red light. It trickles down my features before I hear a quiet beeping noise, freeing me from this place. The guard nods at me and I step aside to let Peter do the same thing. I watch as he copies my movements. He leans down, presents his face and stares at the tiny camera. The soft 'beep' I heard before changes dramatically and blares all around us for five seconds. Peter jumps back in shock and I do the same.

"It's alright, do it again," the guard reassures Peter. He obviously knows my boyfriend well enough. If they were strangers, he would have been dragged down to Al's office immediately.

Peter does the same thing, this time straightening his face and moving like a robot towards the camera. The harsh beep startles us again.

"Sorry, Peter," the guard mumbles, coming out of his shell and looking alert, "You'll have to come with me."

"What? Why? What's wrong with it?" Peter asks, glancing at me worriedly.

"I don't know, but you'll have to sort it out with Al," I step aside to let the guard through and take Peter's hand, looking up at his face. He looks weak again.

"I'll wait for you," I comfort, "Maybe it's just a glitch-"

"It's no glitch," he cuts me off, "They know how I treated you, and now that they know the truth, they will do everything to get rid of me." I close my eyes in frustration and open them to see his twinkling eyes.

"You're overreacting," I say, noticing his face twist in disgust, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I just worry about my fucking future. They will kill me, they will try to kill me-"

"Do you even hear what you're saying?!" I shout suddenly, noticing his eyes widen, "It's just a fucking glitch! Al has nothing against you!"

"Watch your fucking mouth, Tris," he says, and I feel anger flare up in me again.

"What did you just sa-"

"I said watch. Your. Mouth." He interrupts. He is trying to let anger overpower his weakness but it doesn't work. He won't scare me for a second. I know him too well. I don't know why, but I press on.

"Don't tell me what to do," I shrug my shoulder, leaning back on my foot as he towers over me. The guard who is waiting for Peter to follow him has probably shit himself. I feel sorry for him.

"You'll do what I fucking tell you to-"

"Oh, so now you're playing Derek?" I challenge, seeing the flames in his eyes being extinguished by waters. Is this how we are going to manage our stress? Yelling at each other? He furrows his eyebrows at me and steps away, sighing in what sounds like disgust.

"Find me when you're cooled off. I don't want to be around you right now," The anger management lessons have payed off. He would have yelled at me, but instead he chose the other option of keeping his distance. I watch him turn away and walk down the corridor with the guard. He walks steadily, showing no signs of distress. I, on the other hand, am showing plenty. I need some air. Can I still leave without him? I fight with my inner consciousness for a second before deciding against it. Leaving would only make things worse. I need to face my responsibilities like an adult.

I take a stroll towards the coffee room with my hands in my pockets. Unfortunately, I don't find Christina there, so I turn around and walk in the opposite direction. Just as well, I think. I need to be by myself for a while. The war evicts so many emotions from people. Sometimes, you're angry, sometimes you cannot stop laughing. I blame the human nature on the stress. It is the only logical thing to do.

My heart rate stabilizes itself after a few minutes. The redness flushes from my face and I sigh as I keep picturing Peter's face. He looked so hurt. His words _'I don't want to be around you right now' _make me think of that time when Four and I nearly broke up. He has had enough of my sacrificial nature and wanted me to be Divergent. Not reckless.

I walk into the nearest room I find and shut the door behind me. There is nothing settling about the space I am in. All the walls were stripped of any decorative objects and the floor lacks carpets. There is an eerie breeze tickling my legs. I realize that a gap at the bottom of the wall quite clearly leads to the outside. Fresh air. That'll do I guess. I take a deep breath and then exhale, listening to owls hooting in the distance. Is it night time already?

I walk up to a desk in the room and lean forward against it. It is freezing to touch, but I find comfort in that. I look down at my hands. They are filthy. I can't find time to look after my nails, and I definitely do not have time to wash my hands over and over again. It seems to me that everything I touch around here, stains my hands. I want to smell them, but something tells me that sweet flowery scents won't be penetrating my nostrils.

Suddenly, I hear the door swing open behind me and spin around towards the source of the noise. Nick blocks the light which is trying to flood into the room. His silhouette is confident and strong. His face comes into view when he walks into the room, shutting the door behind him. I smile nervously and fold my arms, making myself look bigger. What is he doing here? As my eyes flicker all over his body, the question escapes my lips. He smirks at me and stops.

"Just wandering," his face is twisted, like a serial killer's. All of a sudden, I start feeling nervous. I lean against the wall and bite my lip.

"I think they are looking for you," I start, clearing my throat when my voice comes out shakily, "They are looking for the culprit who put me under a simulation." I observe his eyes for any signs of recognition.

"Oh, are they?" his voice is chilled. To my surprise, it relaxes me slightly.

"Yeah," I cough, glancing from my feet, to his face. He locks the door in one swift motion and I tense up. He might be the rebel. I don't know for sure if he was the one who put me under the simulation, but all evidence points to him. I wish I was equipped with a gun. "Why did you lock the door?"

"I don't want anyone to disturb us, Tris," he retrieves a needle from his pocket and taps it gently, pushing down with his thumb onto the plunger gently, "Come here."

I laugh nervously and shake my head. If he steps closer to me, I will attack him. His feet move slowly and cautiously towards me. I watch his eyes glue to my face. He is trying to figure out how I will react. I can tell.

"Unlock the door," I say. He shakes his head in response, coming closer to me. That is when I finally spring into action. As he raises his needle-occupied hand, I try to dodge his blow, thinking he will stick it into me. Another simulation? What is in it? For all I know, the liquid is purple. I groan when he hits my rib cage with a fist. I fall to the floor before jumping back up quickly.

"Come here, I won't try to hurt you if you co-operate," he purrs, staring me down. I grip my side with both of my hands as I start backing up. I underestimated his strength.

"I don't believe you," I gulp, watching him close the gap between our bodies slowly. Once he gets too close, I kick his ankle, hoping he would grab it with at least one hand but instead he groans loudly and lunges at my vulnerable body. In just a few seconds, I am trapped within his enormous arms, trying to squirm free. I can't let this happen. My instincts kick in and I try to punch him, or kick him or bite him. I don't want to forget again.

"Stay fucking still," he hisses into my ear. When all else fails, I scream. I scream at the top of my lungs.

"Peter!" My mouth shapes the vowels only for his name. This is not supposed to happen. I scream again, but I lose my voice as he stabs the needle into my neck. Everything starts to blur and my eyelids feel heavy.

"Shh, there you go, relax," his voice has a soothing impact. I moan as everything goes black. Is this supposed to be a simulating serum? Or just a tranquilizer?

**I say we make 13 reviews until I upload the next chapter ;) Tell me what your thoughts are :P**


	30. Chapter 30

**Thank you for your reviews :) We have finally hit 30 chapters. Enjoy ;)**

I wake up feeling dead. My head is as heavy as a rock. I can't lift my legs. Whatever surface I am lying on doesn't feel moderately like a bed. I find the will power to finally shift my legs and groan slightly as if I have been frozen like this for years, and moving my muscles is the most painful thing. I open my eyes to a dark room. Am I still in the safe house? I can't be. It smells like sweat and burned corpses. A morgue would probably be the most fitting place right now. When I try to move my lips, I realize that they are dry so I try to lick them to add moisture, but my mouth is dry too. How long have I been sleeping?

I turn my head to the right, ignoring the shooting pain down my spine, and notice a door about 30 yards away from me. This is definitely not the safe house. A table is placed near the end of the room, but the objects on it are too small for me to register. I let out a satisfactory moan when I arch my back and it cracks. I need to get up.

As I lean forward, something stops me. What? What is happening? I look down to see thick ropes holding my body to the bed. Oh, great (!)

What was the last thing I remember? The fight with Peter... then I started wandering around and ran into Nick... Nick. He punched me, I remember that. And then he stuck something into my neck. Well, at least I didn't lose my memory again. My face heats up gradually as I think things through. Nick is the fucking rebel. Did he somehow try to sabotage mine and Peter's escape when the camera didn't recognize Peter's face? Damn those Erudites.

Is Peter wondering where I am? Why did I have to be so harsh with him? I have been kidnapped (as far as I'm aware) and besides the problems he has to live with, he also needs to worry about me. I think of the last words he said to me: _I don't want to be around you right now. _Tears prick at my eyes. I feel guilty. I'd reach up and put a hand on my face but apparently I was restricted in certain limb movements.

Suddenly, the door creaks open and a man steps in. It's not Nick. I am both grateful and ungrateful at the same time. Nick could overpower me in seconds, but this man could do worse. As he walks closer to me, I see his facial features becoming clearer. He has no hair, and his skin is very tanned, but he is not half as handsome as his colleagues. He doesn't look that old, but he is definitely in his late thirties. Slowly, he takes a seat at the edge of my bed, giving me lots of space. A smirk plays on his lips, and that's when I see the scar. It starts at the bottom of his neck and travels all the way up to his scalp, touching on his eye in the middle. Amazingly, the eye seems to work well and he is not blind. The man intertwines his fingers as he stares at me. I wish I could sit up to look less vulnerable.

"Hello, Tris," he spits my name out like poison. At the same time, his eyes glare at me, but his other features are relaxed. I don't answer and simply stare at him, "My name is Aamil. I am the leader of the rebels."

Of course he is. He looks like a leader and sounds like a leader. I begin breathing heavily as I absorb the new information. I am doomed, aren't I?

"I will cut the ropes, if you promise not to lash out," I watch him take a knife out of his pocket, and my heartbeat pounds out of my chest. I don't trust him already. "It was just a precaution, but now I see that you're tamed, I am willing to cut the ropes."

I don't reply. I lay on the bed unblinking, hoping that he doesn't kill me just yet. I still need to see Peter. This couldn't have been the last time.

We sit through the silence and then he leans in and puts the blade under the ropes on my shoulders. I tense up. The ropes fall around me one by one an I breathe a sigh of relief. When he leans back to resume his place, I sit up and roll my numb shoulders backwards. He slides the blade back into his pocket. My hands are still restrained behind me. I try to wiggle them free, but realize that they are trapped by handcuffs. For fuck sake.

"You're here for the live execution," he states. None of this is news to me, "When the cameras are ready, I will bid my team to escort you to the broadcast site. There is no point in trying to escape, because you can't." I glance down at his murderous hands for a second, "We know where your protectors are hiding. When you are done with, my team will proceed to kill them off for being the supporters of this havoc."

"I'm sorry, what havoc?" I blurt out, "People are finally free to go beyond the wall. Chicago is no longer a prison. Why are you trying to restore it?"

"For peace," he says. Ugh, he sounds just like Jeanine.

"There will be no peace," I say, crossing my legs.

"You will never find out whether there will or will not be peace," he raises his voice, taming me again, "You are the reason why the faction system no longer exists. Many people want it back. This is why you will be killed in front of the city. The broadcast will appear on every monitor in the city. And the people of Chicago will realize that this is what will happen to them if they do not surrender to our power."

I almost say something bitter, but decide to hold against it. There is no point. I am already dead. As Aamil stands to leave, I find my voice. "When is the execution?"

He turns to me and rolls his eyes before opening the door. "In an hour."

**I wanted this chapter to be longer but saw that you guys created 13 reviews already and was like: Oh shit, better update xD**

**Tell me your thoughts :) Thank you for 200 reviews 4 And again, the more you review, the faster I will upload.**


	31. Chapter 31

**Welcome to the climax of the story ;) Don't start freaking out about this one. There is some rape-ish nature in this one so if you are sensitive, you have been warned.**

My eyes don't leave the door Aamil closed a few minutes ago. It feels like I am back in the Erudite headquarters. Except that instead of a white cell, I am in a black one, and instead of Peter faking my death and saving me, I will die for real. I believe it now, and nothing I will do will prevent my imminent death. I am happy to die. I have overstayed my welcome on this planet. God, the amount of times I had near-death experiences. It all had to be for a reason. I only make things worse. I create civil wars. I hurt people. And then I kill them. There is only one reason why my conscience is telling me to stay alive: because of Peter.

He is going to forget about me in less than a year. He will find the perfect woman. He will be fine. But that's the future Peter. The now Peter is not going to be okay. He is going to turn on himself. I don't want him to hurt. Who cares about the future? When I die, which will be in an hour, and when he finds out and let's it sink in, he is NOT going to be okay.

The door swings open with confidence and Nick strides in. Just what I need. I glare up at him, trying not to look too vulnerable in my handcuffed state. He smirks widely at me and shuts the door closed with his heel. I don't jump at the loud bang. I continue to stare him down. He even steps back slightly, as if I actually scared him with my intimidating stare.

"You look like shit," he states. It feels weird hearing him say that. He was such a good liar. I have no intentions of answering him. In response, I turn my head to the side and pretend to be looking at the new surroundings. He doesn't like that. I hear his sigh.

In a few strides and one swift movement, he grips one of my wrists and twists it so hard that I fall to he ground. Before I completely give in, he stops and holds me up so that I am on my knees. Is this what position I will be in when the whole city is watching my execution?

"I'm supposed to escort you," he says, "But the broadcast isn't for another hour. So I figured I'd have a little fun with you first. You don't mind do you?" I don't answer. The atmosphere changes dramatically. I see him undoing him belt from the corner of my eye. If he even tries to touch me, I will kill him.

My face heats up when I sense him releasing his member from his dark jeans, and I try desperately not to look. Is this what he fucking needs? He could have tried when I was oblivious to his evil nature, but I guess it wouldn't have been rape.

He comes closer to me and I raise my shoulders. Don't. Don't.

"Tris," he whispers. Nick takes a fistful of my hair and holds my head in place. I bite down on my lip instinctively, looking up at him. His length is too close to my face. It takes me all the willpower I have not to twitch away. "Take it in." He orders, all serious.

I stay silent, pursing my lips together and trying to buy myself some time, saving my inexperienced mouth from being intruded. Unfortunately, he pushes his thumb between my lips and parts my mouth open, shoving his dick inside. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping he will hold back. He doesn't. I expected that. His enormous member makes it's way down my throat and I choke. It seems to turn him on more because he moans. I whimper helplessly, feeling the tip of his cock nudging my uvula. My gag reflex is activated and I choke again.

"Suck it," he orders. I disobey him and cough again. That's it. If there is one thing I do before I die, it will most definitely be this. I clench my jaw and bite down, enjoying how he screams in pain. Nick slaps my head away with his hand and I fall down on one side, unable to keep my balance. His face is priceless. It's a shame that I can't taste any blood. I spit his remaining taste onto the floor. "Fucking bitch!" He walks around the room, tucking his weapon into his pants.

Something starts bubbling inside me. It takes me a moment to realize that it is laughter. I part my lips and let it out. Nick turns to look at me in shock, making me laugh even more. His gorgeous blond hair seems greasy in this light.

My laughter quickly dies out when he lunges at me, punching me on the side of my face. I groan loudly, desperate to clutch the throbbing muscle but my hands remain restrained behind my back. Nick straddles my body and continues his rampage. Punch after punch after punch, I start to feel groggy. I scream out, hoping to bring him back to reality, but nothing can stop him. He can't kill me now, I thought. The rebels need me for the broadcast.

When he lifts off of my body, I curl into a ball to alleviate the pain somehow. I try to see clearly, but one of my eyes is completely swollen. The pulse in my eyelid increases and I feel it glue together, limiting my vision. That is going to bruise badly.

Somebody barges into the room, making me jump. "What have you done to her?" A male voice asks behind me. I don't need to see to know what this scenario looks like. The shadow of the male hovers over me and I wince when he takes my head into his hands. Nick takes the chance to kick my stomach and I groan again. I am numb all over, "Stop it! She is going live in thirty minutes and her face looks fucked up!"

"She bit my dick!" Nick yells at the man. I smirk to myself, ignoring the pain for half a second.

"What was it doing in her mouth in the first place?!" My tiny body is lifted into firm arms and I am placed on the bed in a sitting position. I need to be tapped on the shoulder to stop my head from bobbing to the side. The man cups my face carefully and makes me look at him. It's a shame that my vision is blurred. He holds up two fingers and they multiply by three. "How many, Tris?"

"Six," I slur, swaying on he bed. Nick groans once more before leaving the room, only to be replaced with two more men.

"Carl, get over here," the man in front of me says.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to her?" A deeper voice answers. I am gathering that I really don't look that good. Everyone exchanges a few words before the man in front of me sighs and puts a hand on my rib cage. I wince loudly.

"How the fuck is she gonna read what's on the sign if she can't see straight?" It's a female voice. I furrow my eyebrows, playing back the bit where I registered two men coming into the room. Could it be Goldie? Nick's sister?

"I don't know," the man stands up straight and takes me up by the arm, "Let's see Aamil."

I get dragged through unfamiliar rooms, hearing shouts of disgust as I pass by. The man pulling me along is gentle. It could be way worse. We stop and I trip over a rock, but a hand presses into my stomach and I stay on my feet. I sense somebody else's presence. I look up and squint to see a camera on a tripod with lots of cables escaping the device. I follow the multicolored wires and stop when I see them pooled at my feet. I tripped on them, I think.

Heavy and slow footsteps sound before they stop, and I look up to see what looks like Aamil in front of me. Everything is still blurred, but his bald skull is easy to spot.

"What is this?" he asks, exhaling sharply. I smell tobacco in the air and realize that he is smoking.

"She doesn't get along with Nick..." the man offers as an explanation. Aamil laughs.

"So what do you suggest we do now, Brandon?" I glance at the man who now has a name. He shrugs one shoulder, keeping his arm interlocked with mine at the back. The smell of tobacco gets closer, suggesting that Aamil is standing inches away from me. Suddenly, I feel a burning sensation on my shoulder and scream. My body steps closer to Brandon in hope of protection, but he doesn't do anything. Why would he do anything? He despises me. Stupid Stiff.

One of my eyes begins to work again and I turn to see Aamil lifting his cigarette away from my shoulder. He extinguished it on my skin.

"Clean her up," he orders, "We'll have to do this tomorrow." I breathe a sigh of relief. At least that buys me some time.

**Thoughts please :) I enjoyed writing this chapter. Review and tell me if you enjoyed it as well. Can we get 20 reviews until the next update? ;) We've done it before, we can do it again.**


	32. Chapter 32

Brandon brought me back to my cell, ignoring the fact that I was stumbling over my own feet throughout the whole journey. I sat on my own for a while before he came back; carrying what looked like a plastic tub. The handles of it were stretching and I realized that the heavy water was to blame.

The chair I am sat on is completely made of wood. It is also so old that whenever I exhale, I feel the legs creaking. Brandon struggles to lay the tub down, spilling some water near my feet. I feel my eye throb as my vision becomes red. It's a good thing I was brought up in Abnegation, or I would have asked for a mirror by now.

He grabs a white mop and dunks it into the water before squeezing it damp and pressing it to one of my eyes. I moan in pain once the cold liquid starts soaking through my bruises. My vision clears slightly. I see him clearer now. Brandon holds my head still as he works through the wounds on my face, cleaning them carefully. I take my time to look over his features. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. His lips are pursed together. He has kind eyes. Abnegation.

The question in my mouth bubbles erupts before I can control my curiosity: "Were you Abnegation?"

He nods a reply and when he glances at my eyes again, it urges him to elaborate. "Yeah, um… I was Abnegation and… I came to the 'rebels', as you CALL US, when the faction system was destroyed."

The corner of my lips twitches as he runs the mop up my jaw. He will be easy to crack.

I watch his blue eyes observe the bags under my own. His jaw tenses and he backs away slightly, dipping the red cloth into the water again. I feel hot blood run down my cheek, but before the drops hit the floor, he presses the cloth onto my face, keeping it there. This time, I don't wince.

"Ouch," I whisper, watching him carefully.

"Sorry," he says. He actually apologized. And he calls himself a rebel? What stands as authority here anyways?

I tear my eyes away from him and stare behind him instead. There is not much to see there, but the awkwardness that I feel rising is too much and I cannot stare at him anymore. I close my eyes as he takes the mop away and open them again when I hear the sound of splashing water.

"How old are you?" I blurt out, eyeing him curiously. If he transferred to Dauntless during my Choosing Ceremony, it would explain why he had the nerve to join the rebels. He looks my age, but his eyes look much older.

"Hostages don't get to ask questions," Brandon says. I let out a laugh like a mad woman.

"You were talking to me a second ago, and suddenly this topic is too sensitive for you?" I roll my eyes, but regret it as soon as I do. Pain shoots up into my skull and I clear my throat to conceal the agonizing groan.

"Can you see straight?" he asks and holds two fingers in front of me. They don't multiply or merge together and I nod.

"Two," I answer. Brandon sighs and spills the plastic tub onto the floor. I watch the red water leak through a drain in the corner. I am not convinced that my face looks any better but at least I got my eyesight back.

"Do you have a HEADACHE?" he asks. I bite my lip when he cups my face and stares into my eyes, trying to figure me out. I shake my head slowly as he holds me in place. He must be checking for a concussion. My hands are still tied behind my back. It stings my wrists. I am probably losing blood there too.

"Do you think you could walk?" I concentrate on the pain in my ribs and stomach. It hurts but I felt worse, and I still managed to run through the battlefields.

"Yes," I answer, making him release my face.

"If Nick comes back while I'm gone, tell him that Brandon is in the middle of fixing your face," he says.

"Is that supposed to stop him or something?"

"Yes, he will back off for a while to let me do the job," he answers as he takes a few steps towards the door. If there was any light in here, I would be thankful because I cannot see him in the shadows.

"I don't think it will work," I call after him as he opens the door.

"Well, that's just unfortunate for you then, isn't it?" He is a bit sarcastic for Abnegation.

I hold my breath as I wait for Brandon to come back. The now empty tub is rocking against the faint breeze of the cell. From here I can make out that the container for the water is actually blue. I try to focus on that. Blue. What else is blue? My heart leaps into my mouth when the door opens again. I expect to see Nick's angry face strolling through the shadows until he is too close, but it is Brandon. He glances at me and then down at his hands. He grips a metal container with a spoon and a tube of cream. I hope its cream.

He pulls my chair nearer to the bed and I cringe as I am dragged backwards. This chair is too old to be harassed like that. I wince as he lifts me up from the chair and sits me down on the bed. He lowers himself next to me and lifts the lid of the metal container. I am overwhelmed by the scent of spice and chicken. I didn't realize how hungry I was until now.

The steam moistens my face and I open my mouth when Brandon takes a spoonful of the soup and feeds it to me. It momentarily burns my mouth but I don't complain. Forcefully, I swallow the hot liquid and feel it scorching my insides as it lands into my stomach.

It takes precisely one minute until the container is empty. I want more. But somehow I am able to figure out that the rebels are not willing to use their food to feed a dead hostage girl.

I wince as the cream burns through my skin near my eyes. Brandon doesn't stop rubbing it in until the whole tube is empty. I breathe out when he tosses it into a trash can near the bed.

I see him running a hand through his hair out of the corner of my eye and it reminds me of Peter. I decide not to think of him in fear of tears surfacing in my already wounded eyes. I cannot show weakness, even if I will be killed in 24 hours.

"Go to sleep," he orders, rising to his feet, "Or don't. Might as well use up your last moments." I watch him make his way to the door and call after him.

"Explain to me," I say, "Why are you one of them?" It is honestly hard to think of a reason. He is too kind. But he still wants me dead.

"I am devoted to the faction system," he answers, "Abnegation was destroyed because of your rebellion. I wanted nothing more than to lead a normal life." I furrow my eyebrows at him.

"Lead a normal life?"

"As hard as it is to believe," he shrugs and walks out of the door. I slump my shoulders and stare into the darkness for a moment before lying down onto my side, ignoring the pain all over my body and closing my eyes.

**Please review and tell me what you think :)**


	33. Chapter 33

**2 chapters in one day you ask? Why, that must be because I love you all too much ;) Although, it does kinda end in a cliffhanger, this one. Bear with me while I write the next chapter.**

The cell door slams, waking me up. Immediately, I jump up from my lying position and squint to see who is in the shadows. I did not sleep. No matter what sounds I was hearing or what environment I was in, I was not going to miss those last moments of my life. There were a lot of muffled conversations on the other side of the wall. I listened to them and found them somewhat soothing.

"You awake?" Brandon asks, stepping in front of me. I see something in his hands. It's a gun.

"Mhmm," I moan, desperate to rub my forehead. I think I may be concussed. The HEADACHES did not stop. They started when Brandon left the cell yesterday.

"Get up," I obey his commands and slowly rise to my feet. He gives me time, waiting for me to turn my back on him so that he can press the gun against my throbbing hips and lead me out of the room.

We walk in unison towards my execution. I start to imagine the white walls of the Erudite headquarters and feel the tears prick my eyes. I thought I was avoiding death, but it seems like I walked right onto its doorstep. I try to imagine Peter behind me, holding that gun to my back, and I feel better already.

We pass doors and staircases until we reach the room I was in yesterday. I see the cables on the floor and step over them carefully. There is a stable chair in front of a camera which is placed on a tripod. Not many people are in this room, but I am guessing that is about to change. Aamil is standing near the chair with his arms folded. When he sees me, his lips curl into a smile.

"Good morning, Tris," he greets. I stay silent and take my seat once Brandon releases me. I groan when he grabs my hands from behind and pulls them up, dropping them back down when my arms are behind the back of the chair.

I look up to see Brandon walking towards the camera and grabbing some papers with massive words written on them. He sits down on a chair and holds up the signs, staring directly at me. "Can you see the words?" I look at the words and REGISTER that they say 'My name is Tris Prior". I nod at him and he returns the gesture, putting the signs down.

The seat is surprisingly comfortable. I look down at my feet to be more aware of my state. The shoes look okay, I guess. My pants are stained with blood. I let my eyes travel up my body. Shirt is stained, arms are stained, face… I can't see my face and I am not sure I want to.

I look back up and see a brand new face. The man with a beard (I decide to call him Bob) starts fiddling with the cables, plugging and unplugging them from the camera. A wave of nausea hits me. I suddenly realize that the whole city will be watching me. The lens appears terrifying.

I glance away from it for now. That doesn't help. The bile rises in my throat. Oh, crap. What is happening? I can't be SICK. I need to hold it down. Swallow, swallow!

My face heats up as I lean to the side and open my mouth. Yesterday's supper spills on the floor before me, accompanied by strings of blood. One guy shouts into the room and in a flash, Brandon leans by my side. He grips my hair tightly as I empty my stomach. It's a small gesture, but I will always remember to be dependent on the kindness of strangers. **[A/N: Famous quote, guys.]**

"Clean that up! We're not postponing it again!" Aamil yells angrily. I see a blur of a man under my seat, desperately trying to wash away the vomit with a mop. "What is wrong with her anyway?!"

I cough as Nick pulls me back into my chair carefully, letting my lean against his body as I catch my breath. Somebody hands him a bottle of water and he holds it to my mouth. I sip it slowly.

"She has some sort of disease," I recognize Nick's voice. Reluctantly, I look up to see him glaring daggers at me. His eyes are made of stones. My body cannot hold its weight, so I rest my head on Brandon's shoulder. He holds me closer, wiping my mouth with a wet cloth.

"Give her some adrenaline, she can't look like this," Aamil instructs somebody. Before I am aware of what is going on, two men are on my other side, holding up a needle with yellow substance.

"She doesn't need that," Brandon speaks quietly; "I'll make sure she wakes up before the broadcast." Does he know something I don't? Surely, it would be easier for me to have the adrenaline.

"Who made you the boss?" the guy with the injection asks. For whatever reason, I feel like I should help Brandon out. I owe him that much, right?

I take a deep breath before sitting up properly and forcing myself to look up at the rebels. "I'm fine, I'll be fine."

Everyone in the room exchanges glances before shrugging it off and continuing their work. Some people go to the camera; others walk out of the room. Brandon gives me a curious look.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I feel myself drifting off to sleep in the intervals of two minutes. One I hear the camera coming to life I jump up and stare directly into the lens. There is a red light flashing at the side, matching my beating heart. There are more rebels filling the room now. Ten women are among them. Each and every one of them look like they are about to stab somebody. Brandon sits next to the camera with Nick. A female version of Nick sits beside him. Goldie, I'm assuming.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Aamil stands in front of me, blocking my view of the camera. We are not live yet, so I am guessing he is talking to his fellow rebels, "We are gathered here to eradicate our only problem. The only person standing in the way of our imminent liberation!" How ironic it is that he thinks setting up another faction system is going to give them freedom. "After Tris Prior's death, we are to go to the headquarters of the insurgents and wipe out their race. We will take each and every citizen of Chicago and authorize their freedom. Once the rebels rise to power, we will be unstoppable." I roll my eyes as everyone cheers after the lame speech.

Aamil steps aside and presents me to the camera. I gulp and sit up as Nick turns the recorder on. My shoulders tense. The drowsiness I felt a moment ago is too far gone. I am wide awake now.

Brandon holds up the pre-planned speech. My mind goes black. I forget how to read. I glance from Aamil to Nick to Brandon and hold my breath. Seconds pass before the room fills with tension. I hear somebody clear their throat and let my eyes sit on Brandon's. I take a deep breath before speaking. My voice has never sounded this small.

"My name is Tris Prior," Every syllable shakes. I remember this line from earlier. It is easy to remember. I watch Brandon flip to the second sign and stare at him instead. He nods at me encouragingly, letting his eyes do the talking. He mouths some words, but I cannot understand what he is trying to say.

"I…I have been kidnapped and… they will kill me and," Tears start falling down my cheeks when I imagine Peter watching this. I am not reading what Brandon is pointing to. I can't read it. I won't read it. I watch his eyebrows furrow as he desperately points to the words. I glance at his finger and blurt out the next line, "Anyone who underestimates the power of the rebels… or tries to escape… this- this will happen…"

I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear the gun click in Aamil's hand. This is the end. I see Peter's face smiling down at me. "I love you," I whisper under my breath. And that is when everything goes black.

I hear the hum of a mechanism slowly fading out before the sounds of groans fill the room. I open my eyes. I am alive. But I can't see anything. Somebody turned the power off.

Nick switches his torch on and the light blinds me. I squint against its force, trying to understand what is happening. Are they here? My heart pounds against my chest, bringing me hope. Please be here.

Then I hear the gunshots.

**Ajdhbfgrgbrg are they here?! Review :)**


	34. Chapter 34

**I re-wrote this chapter, guys. When I was nearly done, I checked it through and wasn't satisfied with the outcome. Some people were killed. But I re-wrote it and now it is completely different. I hope I made the right choice. Enjoy :)**

Once the yells began spewing around the room, I found myself down on the floor, desperately trying to escape the metal chair. Every time I hear a gunshot, my body ducks further into the ground instinctively. For a moment I wonder how anybody could possibly see in pitch black, but then I fathom that the rebels have been equipped with flashlights, which are dancing around the room. It reminds me of a disco ball.

Somebody begins shouting orders across the room, directing an individual to "turn the fucking power back on". They will soon remember about me. I need to be fast.

Like a mad woman, I start jerking from side to side in an attempt to shimmy up the chair and leave it's horrible back that got me restrained. I press my feet against the seat when my legs get enough space under me, and push as hard as I can. I feel the chair disappearing from my back slowly, inch by inch. My heart lifts when I manage to kick it to the side. Quickly, I arrange into a position that will allow me to stand up without falling back down. Before I get very far with my mission though, somebody shines the torchlight directly at my face, making me squint. I can tell that it's one of the rebels. After they notice me trying to get away, the light gets brighter and brighter. And then it suddenly fades out.

I squint, expecting it to come back, but it doesn't. It is still pitch black. I hear the door being slammed open, followed by aggressive shouts. I hear a bullet being fired and landing and nuzzling into somebody's body. First death of the night. And I thought it was going to be me.

The light suddenly flicks back on. I see that the rebels have rearranged their standing places from before. All of them have their guns at the ready. One of them is dead on the floor, as I expected. It's Nick. Pure pleasure washes over me. It seems that finally I can be at peace.

As my eyes adjust to the light, I spot them. My team. The soldiers. They are among the crowd. Al is among them and he is the first to notice me. I scan the crowd for Peter as I try to get to my feet. Is he here too?

"Tris!" As the bullets continue to pierce the air, Al runs up to me, towering his body over mine and scooting me to a nearby wall. "My God, what happened to you?" So he noticed my face then. I look up at him. He looks different. His eyes are more alert than ever. "Look up at me," he orders. I do as he says, flinching away when he shines a small light into my eyes, prying them open. "Shit," he whispers.

"What? What?" I melt like an ice cube when he pulls me into his arms. Thankfully, he was aware of my weakness which caused him to keep a firmer grip on me. Over his shoulder, I see soldiers shooting everybody down. Aamil is nowhere to be seen. Brandon is standing up, and that is the last time I see him. He gets shot in the stomach, doubling over from the impact. I am about to yell for them not to hurt him, but then I remember that he is a rebel. He wants me dead too.

"We have to move," Al says, dragging me away. We step over Nick's body carelessly, and from the action I end up tripping. Al puts his wrist under my knees and picks me up, carrying me out of the hubbub.

"Where is Peter?" I ask, feeling myself drift out of consciousness. As he runs, my ribs slam into his stomach causing me to wince each time. He doesn't answer me. He just keeps going.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. I look over Al's shoulder and see soldiers running after us. One of them has Aamil restrained. His lack of liberty reminds me of my own handcuffs. I try to move my wrists together but Al shakes his head as we continue down the corridor. "Later, Tris. Just hold on, we're nearly there."

What am I holding onto exactly? Oh right, seeing Peter. I need to see him. I need to make it that far.

We fly out of the building. It looks strangely familiar but I don't recall ever seeing it before. Al is panting heavily from our little trip and I arch my back, trying to somehow lose a few pounds to make it easier for him. The nausea is playing up on me again.

I am dumped into some sort of vehicle (probably a van). Before I can puke up again, I take a quick look around. Darkness covers the interior and the exterior environment. Wait... I thought it was morning? Why can I see stars?

"Be gentle with her, she was injected with something," Al states as he crawls into the van. Was I? A man with a familiar face hovers over me as the vehicle starts moving. I recognize him. He is the doctor. The one with the bald head. My eyes are wide as I look him over. His gaze is vacant as he squeezes certain parts of my face. I wince, making him pull away.

"We need to get back to the safe house right now," and then he pulls away. Do I really look that bad? Aside from the nausea and the obvious swelling on my face, I feel fine.

"TRIS!" I hear a yell. Immediately, my head snaps up in search for the face I know too well. He's here. The van is moving at a slow pace, is he going to jump onto it? My heartbeat pounds against my chest as I try to sit up. I feel somebody snapping my handcuffs open. It stings. I raise my hands in front of my face and see two wristbands of blood. Frantic footsteps pound the ground just a few yards away. Then they suddenly stop and the van bounces suggesting added weight.

"Calm down, Peter, take it easy," Al says. I am startled when Peter's face comes into view. He has never looked like this before. I let out a whimper when the van speeds up. Tears well up in his eyes as I watch them scan my face. His hand hovers over my stomach as if he is too afraid to touch me. As if I will fall apart.

"Baby," his voice is barely a whisper. It makes me want to cry. He has never looked so weak before.

I want to tell him that I love him. That I am happy to see him. Or at least say his name. But the pressure that has been building up inside of me is finally released and I choke up what is left in my stomach. Peter pushes me to the side sharply and I watch blood mix in with my vomit on the floor of the van.

"What's wrong with her?!" Peter yells, startling me.

"We need to get her to the medical room straight away, we don't know what they did to her," Al answers calmly, placing his hand on my knee. I retch quietly, making somebody stroke my back.

"Oh my God, Tris," Peter whispers near my head, "It'll be okay, I love you. Just stay with me, please, sweetheart." I listen to his prayers until they fade away. I close my eyes, lying on my vomit covered cheek.

I would have been very happy to die at that moment. I saw Peter, and he is okay. Aamil is captured. No more attacks on the city.

I can still hear the voices in my head.

I want the pain to stop. Please.

**I have been sick for a few days now which is why I didn't update yesterday. But hopefully I will get better soon and continue writing super fast. Review please :)**


	35. Chapter 35

**For the ones who are interested, this story is nearly finished. No, no don't start crying, there is more. There will be a new fanfic from Peter's point of view, which will be published after this one ends. I will inform you on the title later. And the details will be revealed in the last chapter of this story. For now, enjoy :)**

I wake with a throbbing head. To be honest, if I could choose between having my limbs cut off and having a headache, I would never pick the latter.

The mattress beneath me was chosen carefully. It is soft. But not too soft so that I sink into the bedding. At this point, I am a hundred percent sure that I am in safe hands. It is all in the mattress. My wit comes back to me as I open my eyes and I manage a smile. What even is this mood?

I tense the muscles in my legs and make them shift, feeling myself completely pant less. My underwear is still on though, which is good. I run a hand up to my chest and expect to find myself bare breasted but thankfully a thin paper dress coats me. The pain in my face comes back when I move my eyes to look down at my hand. There is a clamp on my finger. I follow the wires coming out of it and stop when I see that they are connected to a heart monitor. The beat is steady.

The walls of this room are black, and I can see that they are crusting over with dry algae. That would explain the horrible smell. What kind of hospital is this?

When I tilt my head to the left I see Peter. He is wearing the same clothes I last saw him in. His head is resting on his folded arms which are placed on the bed I am on. I don't need to see his face to know that he is asleep. I run my tongue over my swollen lip as I watch his back rise and deflate. Instinctively, I reach out to shake one of his shoulders. He wakes with a jerk before staring up at me. It takes him a moment to realize what is going on, but eventually he does and towers over me to give me a hug.

"How are you feeling?" His voice is heavy with sleepless nights and hysterical sobs. I want to wrap my arms around him and hug him back, but he takes my hands in his, stopping me. "It's okay, you need to rest. There are these thingies attached... so... don't move too much," I nod when he puts my hands back on my stomach. His own linger there for a moment.

"Are you okay?" I ask. He scrunches up his face as if he has just tasted something sour.

"No, I'm not okay, Tris," he sits on the edge of his chair as he looks me in the eyes. Eventually, he frowns and looks back down at my hand, taking it in both of his. "hank God you're alive." He whispers, kissing the top of my hand.

I look at him when he doesn't lift his head. My fingers twitch slightly and he moves again.

"I missed you," I whisper, clutching his fingers. Peter shakes his head and sits up so that I can see his face. He looks perplexed.

"I should have listened to you," he says. I furrow my eyebrows and he continues, "We should have left the city a long time ago. None of this would have happened. We both would have been safe. It's... it's all my fault, I am bad for you," he rambles on until I cannot stand for another word. What is this? A break up?

"Peter, listen to me," my voice is still weak, but it wakes me up as if I had just yelled. I look him straight in the eyes, "None of this is your fault. It would have happened eventually."

I watch as he agrees with me and nods his head, clutching my hand tightly.

"We need to move away, Tris, I can't live here anymore," he says. We intertwine our fingers. I want to say something but I also want him to say something more. So I stay silent. "I think that this is actually over... they have captured he Aamil guy... and nobody wants to kill you anymore, at least I don't think so," he shoots me a serious look, "Nobody depends on you anymore. You can move away and I am going with you."

Peter abandons his chair and sits on the bed instead. "Where would we go?" I ask hesitantly. The thought of going somewhere else excites me, and now it might actually be possible.

"Somewhere... anywhere," he says, "We can afford it. I don't care where we live, I just want to move away from here." I know how it feels. We have spent half of our lives living happily in Chicago, and then the war broke out and created the most horrible memories for us to live with. That horror overpowers the happiness, and it makes it impossible to live with it.

"Yeah, okay," this utter makes his head snap up again.

"You want to move away?"

I nod.

"And live with me?"

I nod again. He flashes a genuine smile.

I watch him mouth the three little words, making sure to keep the secret of our love between us. He leans in to kiss me but pulls away as our lips brush. I encourage him to be more tender, even though it hurts like hell. We are going to live together. If it wasn't for the stabbing pain all over my body, I would get up and dance.

"So what happened?" I ask after a while. Peter shoes me his gorgeous brown eyes before sighing.

"We're back at the safe house," I watch as he gestures around him, "It's... we don't have a hospital here so... Jimmy had to go out and buy special equipment which... were really expensive," he runs a hand through his hair, kissing my hand again, "You had a couple of scans and... your rib cage is completely bruised." I put my hand on the side of his face to stop him from talking. It hurts him, I see it on his face. I can wait until a doctor delivers the news. I am not so bothered right now.

"I feel fine, I promise," and I do. Well, when I don't move.

"You don't have to lie," he shakes his head. "But you will get better, I swear. You'll get better."

"Did you get Nick?" I recall seeing him dead on the floor but I can't be sure. My head is still fuzzy.

"He was shot on site," Peter says. I nod slowly, leaning back against my pillow.

We sit up straighter when the door to the room opens. I see Al walk in along with the doctor. Al gives me a small smile while the doctor sets his suitcase on the table near the bed. "Here she is," Al gushes, sitting on the other side of my bed. I notice that there is tension between him and Peter. Neither of them have glanced at one another. "How are you feeling?" I straighten up when Al sets his hand on my forehead. Evidently, there isn't a lot of swelling there.

"I'm okay," I assure him, eyeing the doctor. He leans in front of my face, shining a bright light into my eyes. I flinch, not expecting the brightness of the torch. I still see the light when I blink and furrow my eyebrows as the doctor gives me a disapproving look. He shakes his head before speaking.

"The internal bleeding is continuous," he says. Internal bleeding? Holy shit, when did that happen? I snap my head at Peter who kisses my hand again, avoiding my eyes. I am torn away from his face when the doctor squeezes my waist. I shriek loudly, receiving sympathetic hushes from the men. "I'm afraid surgery is inevitable."

"Tris, it's not that severe, so don't worry," Al comforts me, squeezing my knee which is hiding under the covers.

"The bones are wrecked. And they may have punctured vital organs," I listen to the doctor lecturing me as he checks the heart monitor by my bed, "You're not in pain due to morphine. That is the only thing keeping you sane from agony."

I shoot a glance at Peter again, who now has his head on the bed near my hand. I can't tell if he is crying or not.

"I'll take you straight to surgery," the doctor strokes my hair, "Tell me when you're ready for the anesthetic." I love how I have no say in any of this. I have to go to surgery, don't I?

"Can I just..." I nod my head towards Peter. Both men nod in unison and leave us alone in the small room. I look down at Peter as he lifts his head. There are tears standing in his eyes. I stroke his head gently, forcing him to smile.

"I can't..." he begins, "I love you so much, baby." I capture his lips gladly, even though the impact shoots pain through my lips and into my brain. I whisper soothing words against his lips, telling him that I love him. It doesn't lift his spirits in any way. He is absolutely miserable. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Soon the doctor came back in and put a mask over my face.

I take a deep breath. And everything fades to black.

**Review please :)**


	36. Chapter 36

A week has passed since I got rescued from the rebels. In that time I managed to knock myself out, have surgery, fall out with a few people and visit the prisoners. But did I have sex with Peter? Oh, no. There is no time for that. It might ruin my stitches. That would be painful.

Christina visited me in the hospital wing after my surgery. It was a relief to have her there. She was the only one who was able to crack a few jokes (that's after comforting me, of course). I noticed that there were dark circles under her eyes, which were probably the result of sleep deprivation. Most people had the same look during those times, but now everything is different. The rebel leader was captured along with his minions, sustaining peace to the city again. There is a small window in the door of the medical room in which I saw the rebels passing by. Their faces were glued to the floor, and even though I couldn't see lower than their shoulders, I knew that they were all handcuffed. My heart skipped a beat as Brandon passed. He was different. Well, everybody is different now. Nobody is the same.

I was released from the medical room a few minutes ago. Peter met me with the biggest grin on his face. For a moment I thought that he won the lottery, or got delivered extremely good news.

"Lookin' good," he greets. I smirk at him, nudging his chest with my hand. I don't even want to look in the mirror. Where he gets his compliments from: I don't know.

"Shut up," I tease, letting him pull me into an embrace. He is careful not to squeeze where I have been operated. It takes him a while to figure out where he can place his hands, and in the end they rest on my shoulders.

"You ready?"

"What for?" I ask, watching his grin escalate.

"I've arranged all the documents while you were away," he says, "The water and gas is taken care of, and the furniture is already there." It takes me a moment to figure out what he is talking about. Wait... he hasn't. Has he?

"What are you talking about?" I look up into his eyes. His expression stills for a moment but then becomes more animated when he smiles again.

"Our place, you know... the house... the place," he drags his words out, waiting for me to catch on.

"You bought us a house?"

"That I did," he exclaims, "It's this place called Milwaukee and it has been restored from all the damage the war did, and I found the perfect house I'm telling you. It has a balcony and a fireplace and two bathrooms. It's great. Well I've never actually been there but I saw the pictures and you'll love it. I promise."

I stare at him for a moment, not believing the fact that I am about to spend the rest of my life with Peter. In a new house. A new town.

"So, when you're ready..." he steps aside, gesturing to the corridor in front of me. I stare into the distance, seeing a direct path which leads to an open door.

"We're leaving now?" I squeak, looking up at him. Peter furrows his eyebrows and leans in to kiss my cheek.

"Yeah, why wait?"

"But... I haven't even," he regards me, letting a perplexed stare cross his face, "I mean... I need to talk to Christina... say goodbye and everything." That makes him nod, with reality striking his eyes.

"Yeah, of course, err," he looks behind him and then turns to face me again, "When you're ready... go up those stairs," he points to a flight of stairs, "And open the door. There will be a parking lot. I'll be in my car." He hands me a key that is surprisingly cold to touch. I grin up at him.

"You got your car back?"

"Yeah, took me long enough," he smiles.

We kiss for a while with him trying not to touch my scars. I run my fingers through his hair, remembering how much I missed him. When we pull away, I peck the tip of his nose.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

"So you're leaving Chicago?" Christina asks, kicking one of my feet in mid-air. We are sat on metal tables opposite each other. Evidently, none of us are tall enough for our feet to touch the ground. I regard her face carefully, trying to predict whether she will be hurt.

"Yeah," I say, "Somewhere called Milwaukee apparently."

"What do you mean 'apparently'?" I sense a smirk radiating from her, even though I am looking at the ground.

"I haven't been there before, Peter bought the house..." I try not to put too much emphasis on my boyfriend's name, fearing that she will abandon the topic and talk about him instead. Fortunately, she doesn't.

"Well, good luck in Milwaukeekee," I laugh when she does.

"It's not a goodbye forever, is it?" I ask, glancing up at her smiling face.

"Of course not!" she exclaims, "I'll visit you in like a month... once you've settled down and everything." Christina raises her arms and my gaze follows them to find out that she is tying her hair back with a piece of elastic band. It brings out her face more. "Who knows, maybe I will even see a baby bump."

I gape at her. And then I laugh.

"What?! No, we haven't even talked about that yet," But we have. Sometimes it's all I can think about. I remember when we were laid in bed, and Peter tried to nail some sense into me when I wanted to leave Chicago. He said something about having children one day. I smirk at the memory and shake my head.

"Yeah, right," she sighs. Before I can say another word, Christina jumps down from the table and stares up at me. "I'll miss you, my BFF." I laugh when she punches me playfully in the shoulder, mustering the most ridiculous facial impression of a 12-year old girl.

"I'll miss you too," I slide my body down the table until my feet reach the ground. The pain in my stomach is still there.

"Call me when you get there, alright?" I nod and we hug. Christina's dog lays curled up in a ball near the entrance. I give him one last pat before leaving the room.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

The breeze outside is warm enough to compliment the hot evening air beautifully. I squint my eyes when I appear in the deserted parking lot. There is only one car there. The sunset is bright orange, getting more purple and pink as it moves through the clouds into the darkness. I unzip my jacket in an attempt to cool down. Even though the sun is nearly gone, it's hotness still touches me.

I saunter over to Peter's car, expecting him to get out and meet me before I get there. Of course, he does. I shoot him a smile, receiving a much more welcoming one in return. Once there is a yard between us, he takes me into his arms and nuzzles his nose at the base of my neck. I notice how he still tries to position his hands above my waist.

"Got everything?" I smirk and pull away to look at his face.

"I only have myself to bring." Peter's hair looks light brown from this angle. I'm not sure if it's the sun or my damaged eyesight.

He leads me into the car and we both fasten our seat belts. When he revs the engine, I look behind my shoulder to notice bags and bags of clothes piled on top of each other. As the car vibrates, one bag falls onto the floor of the vehicle.

"Is that all our clothes?" I almost laugh. Was a suitcase too much to ask for?

"Yes, and toothbrushes and jewelry," he says. I look at the road ahead of us. It's too convenient that there is no other cars. Is it Earth Day or something? "Did Christina go insane after you told her that you are leaving the city?"

I roll my eyes at him.

"No, she took it well," I say, "She promised to visit in a month." I recall the moment she mentioned a baby bump and smile to myself. I turn to look out of my window so that Peter doesn't notice. If I say something about children, he will probably freak out. I don't want him running scared.

"Great," he whispers. As I glance over at his face, I see that he is steering the car with one hand. The other one is near his mouth. I think he is biting on his knuckles. The silence starts to eat me up and I reach to turn he radio on. The city buildings start passing us slowly. After every building, a certain flashback plays in my head. I look over at one of the tallest. That is where I first zip-lined.

The sky becomes darker when he pass the fence. I look up and notice stars appearing in the black stratosphere behind us. Why is this feeling coming to haunt me now? I am more than happy to leave this city with all of it's memories here, but something tells me that I will never be able to let go. Does Peter feel the same? I look over at him again and observe his face. His eyebrows are knitted together. Concentration stays on his face for five more seconds and then he begins smiling.

"Enjoying the view, Tris?" I roll my eyes and let out a giggle.

I want to ask him what is on his mind. Will he miss Chicago? What about his parents? What _about _his parents? We have never stuck to the topic before and something tells me that even if I did bring it up, he wouldn't want to discuss it. I don't want to talk. I want to sleep.

"Get some rest," it's as if he can read my mind, "When you next open your eyes, we'll be at the house. I'll carry you in and everything."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

I wake with a jolt when I hear the car door slamming shut. Automatically, I turn my head to see that the salon has been cleared out. No bags anywhere. Are we here already? I sit up and unbuckle my seat belt with a click. Everything is dark in front of me. The only source of light is coming from my left where little lamps on the patio are set up. I smile to myself at the unfamiliar surroundings. We are here.

My door opens and the cold air hits me suddenly. I can't help but shudder.

"Hey, you're awake," Peter whispers. I rub one of my eyes so that I can see clearer. He is smiling down at me, holding our his arms, "Come here, I'll carry you like I promised."

I laugh and stretch, shaking my head in my sleepy state. "No, I'm fine."

He steps away to let me exit the vehicle. I hear the door slam behind me before a warm hand presses against the small of my back. It's so quiet. I'm not sure if the darkness is to blame for that.

"We're here. I already took care of the clothes," his utters pass my ears as I absorb the surroundings. When we walk to the front door, a soft crunching sound fills my ears. It's the grass, I think. It's been frozen by the night.

Peter holds the door open for me when I climb the stairs on the porch. I am already in love with the place, even though I can't see it. The light switch is flicked on and I have to look down for a minute to let my eyes adjust. But when I look up... oh my god. It's perfect.

The first thing that I see is the grand staircase. A green carpet covers each stair until it finally reaches the parquet. I kick off my shoes in fear of getting the fine floor dirty. On my right is a massive window, covered with silky black curtains. The place is old-fashioned, but it does have a modern twist. I see a coffee table and a door to the kitchen and a door to somewhere else and a chandelier. We have a chandelier! The smile on my face is imminent and suddenly I am wide awake. I don't have the time to see this place for what it fully is because the excitement takes over. I kind of want to explore it in the morning. With a fresh state.

"The bedroom is upstairs," Peter says behind me. For a moment I think that he is trying to be a tour guide, but then I realize that there is a grin in his voice. I bite my lip gently and turn to face him. He is trying to read my mind again. I can tell by the crease between his eyebrows. "Just saying..."

"And does it have brand new sheets?" I ask, folding my arms.

"Yes," he answers, nodding. The front door slams shut.

"And are the pillows perfectly positioned?"

"Yes," he nods again.

"Then take me to the wonder that is the bedroom," I raise my hands so that he can pick me up. When he flings his arms around my body, I squeal in excitement. I can't believe we have a house. As he tightens his grip around me, a painful moan escapes my lips and he immediately releases me. The look on his face consists of panic.

"Are you okay?"

I nod, shrugging my shoulders to let him know that it is not a big deal. "I'll just walk there." Peter nods at me and slides his hands into his pockets. "I can still be escorted though." I say jokingly. The smile on his face brightens again when he links his arm with mine. And together we walk up the stairs.

We walk into the bedroom together, arm in arm. It is bigger than I thought it would be. My eyes drift to the bags of clothes scattered near a coffee table. I'm guessing he didn't take care of them, did he?

This room is much more colorful than what you first see when you walk in to the house. The curtains and blue, the bedding is red and the carpet is yellow. Not bright yellow though. Good yellow. It's a good yellow.

When I hear the door close behind us, a sudden drowsiness takes over my body. Maybe I am more tired than I thought I was. Peter strides over to me, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto an innocent chair in the process. I am taken aback by the strong build of his body. It's been a long time since I saw him like this.

I take his hands in mine and place them on my hips slowly. He squeezes them lighter than ever, smiling when I nod encouragingly. "I don't want to hurt you."

I shake my head, leaning into his frame. "We can go slow."

My clothes get discarded slower than ever. One by one, they make a pile on the floor. My bra is the last thing to come off. I didn't realize how uncomfortable it was until it was gone. I get pushed back into the crisp sheets, fluttering my eyelashes at the man on top of me. I take a deep breath, smelling the fresh paint on the newborn walls. A new start indeed.

I sigh into Peter's hair when he trails his firm fingers down my body. He sees the bruises covering my skin and leans down to press his lips to them. I almost don't feel the touch. He thinks that if he adds too much pressure, I will collapse under him, or break into a million pieces.

I wrap my limbs around him when he penetrates me. He takes his time. Inch by inch, his cock fills me up until I am sure that he has reached the end of the tunnel. I moan at the second thrust. That is when he stops holding back. My wet core coats his throbbing penis as he moves deeper and deeper each time. I feel his harsh breath tickling my collarbone, where my tattoo is. He sighs my name.

"Ah, Peter," I whisper. The world outside of our bed seems to begin spinning. I don't remember where we are, and I am not really sure I want to.

His thrusts become more desperate. I throw my head back to allow him access to my neck, but I never feel his lips there. He keeps his distance, staring down at my face until finally I feel him spill his hot seed inside me. I moan loudly at the last slam of his hips.

I don't wait for him to pull out after I start drifting off.

**I have an announcement. As the next week is going to be the hardest week of my entire life, I will not update as regularly as I normally do. I have the most important exam to sit and it will all be over on Sunday. When the week is over, I will upload until you guys start losing your minds. It's just for this week. Seriously, I can barely type right now. You would probably notice how shit my writing has got because I am so exhausted xD And also, the story is beginning to end. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't forget to leave a review. **


	37. Chapter 37

**Hello guys :) I am now back, although it is not for very long as I have more exams coming up. This is the last chapter of the story, so enjoy it. Jumping straight into a lemon here.**

I shudder every time his hot breath pushes past my ear. The warm air sticks to my earlobe but then suddenly freezes there, causing goosebumps to pop up on my skin. I feel his repetitive pounding against my wet core, and moan loudly, noticing how his manhood twitches inside of me. He whispers my name sometimes, and other times all I hear is gibberish. I open my eyes to look up at the new ceiling which is being blocked from my view by Peter's shoulder every second. I can't help but smile then. Knowing that he is inside of me, and we are together in this new environment and we are safe. We are finally safe.

"Tris, my God baby, you feel so good," he whimpers. My eyes fight to stay open. I flutter my eyelids when he plunges deeper into me. The impact makes all my muscles contract. I found that if I shut my eyes, I am able to feel more. I am able to actually bring myself to reality and tear my mind away from the scary thoughts that haunt me. And to stop being distracted by that stupid ceiling. Only a few seconds ago I noticed that it has butterfly shapes engraved into it.

Peter pushes the moans out of me. The new bed creaks beneath us, informing me of how unstable it is. But I don't care if it breaks. It can shatter right now and I wouldn't care.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he roars somewhere near my head. I almost smile.

"Give it to me," I reply. Where all this bluntness came from: I have no idea. I remember how we woke up this morning and he attacked me with kisses. Things escalated from there.

A familiar nausea starts coming over me again, but I choose to ignore it.

Peter growls against my skin, releasing what was inside of him into my womb. When he pulls out, the semen seeps out of me, trickling down my thigh when I turn onto my side. He hovers there for a bit, running a hand up and down my back. Then like me, he collapses onto the bed and starts panting.

"What a lovely way to wake up," I say. Peter's mouth twitches up into a smile before he replies.

"Lovely?"

"Well, how would you describe it?" My eyes land on his face when I prop myself up on my elbow. His chest is always moving.

"Satisfying," he breathes.

"What a satisfying way to wake up," I correct myself. Peter chuckles, making the mattress vibrate.

"Yeah, you can say that, I guess," I capture my bottom lip with my teeth, running my eyes all over his body. His shoulders seem broader, and his chest is definitely more buffed up. What a difference the war can make. I didn't even know he worked out that much. I trail my eyes down in hope of seeing his even more attractive member, but he covered it up with a blanket. I deflate in disappointment. "What are we gonna do today?"

My eyes jump back to his face, noticing that he is grinning at me. I think of the thing that would me most logical to do. We have just moved in into a brand new house. Surely, we should be unpacking. Except that there is nothing to unpack as all we have with us are our clothes. This truly is a fresh start. Nevertheless, I respond with inevitable enthusiasm.

"We could sort out our clothes," I say, watching him raising his eyebrows, "I still need to see the rest of the rooms."

"Oh, yeah," he realizes, throwing his head back, "There are like two rooms that need decorating. We could do that this week."

"Does it feel weird not having a job?" Peter sits up, reaching over me to grasp the boxers he discarded last night.

"No," he replies, "It's more fun. I get to spend more time with you."

I smile knowingly. Even though I never had a job, the feeling was mutual. Every time he would return home, my heart would lift and happiness would well up inside of me. We weren't together back then, but I don't think it made us any less out of love.

"You coming?" I snap out of my thoughts at the sound of his voice. Peter stands at the foot of the bed, dressed in nothing but his dark jeans. When did he manage to do that? Was I really thinking for that long?

I nod quickly and slip out of the bed, mimicking his dressing style. I wear nothing but a bra and a shirt. It appears we are both missing the upper or lower parts of our clothes.

We find ourselves in the kitchen that has never been used. I expect the fridge to be empty but apparently Peter took some extra time away from me to buy some groceries. As I open the polished black door, I see a transparent box with chocolate cake in it. A smile crosses my face when I realize that this is the only meal I will get today. Well, that and a half-full bottle of milk.

"Cake?" I turn to face him.

"Your favorite," he informs, lifting a twisted newspaper to me as if to say that I have his permission to take the cake out.

I break apart the two plastic parts wedged together and lift the lid. Immediately, I am enveloped by the sweet smell. Why did I not take advantage of this in Dauntless? Cake is the best thing in the world.

"I can go and buy some eggs, if you want," Peter's voice purrs behind me. I shake my head and take out two spoons, handing one to him without looking.

"It's fine, we'll eat this for breakfast." We don't take out any plates, knowing that we will have to wash them before use. Our laziness shows more than ever. I dip my metal spoon into the corner of the chocolate sponge and bring the armed cutlery to my mouth. The cake starts melting before I even chew. As always, it's amazing.

Suddenly, the nausea I was feeling this morning hits me like a ton of bricks. I was holding it in for this long but now I don't think the act is possible to keep up. The spoon clatters into the sink and I lean over the marble counter. Peter's hand finds me when I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Tris, what's wrong?" I want to say that everything is okay. That it is just food poisoning. Maybe the cake was out of date. It certainly didn't taste like it was out of date. My abdominal muscles clench, controlling the bubbling liquid inside of me.

"Excuse me for a moment," I whisper.

When I reach the newly constructed bathroom, my knees buckle, sending me to the floor. I think I break my knees in the process of falling. Damn, why didn't we place the carpets here earlier?

I throw up the innocent piece of cake I was fortunate enough to have. Yellow slime follows. I don't remember eating anything like this. My bruises flare up as I tense to push the horrible water out of me.

"Ugh," I groan in frustration. This is the last thing I need. How am I ever going to get better with all these nauseating attacks?

"You're scaring me, Tris," Peter says behind me. He holds my hair back as I spit into the toilet bowl. What a way to christen the first time of it's use. I am scaring myself.

When I feel less violated, I lean back against Peter's chest. He flushes the toilet for me before carefully picking me up and standing me on my feet. I turn to look at him. There is worry plastered all over his face. His mouth is in a hard line and his eyes are wide.

"It's alright, it's..." I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt, "It's probably food poisoning, or something stupid like that."

"Food poisoning?" He seems relieved by my answer. He wants to believe it. So he does. All his muscles relax and his arms touch my hips gently, aware of the bruises. "Yeah, that's probably it."

He doesn't even question what I could have eaten. I follow him out of the bathroom, stopping in my tracks when I see a cat calendar on the wall. I smirk at the white, fluffy creature penetrating my soul. So innocent.

What could the sickness be? I think back to the time when I was all drugged up before going into a simulation, and then numerous times after that. That could be it. But it's impossible. Al told me that they flushed the poison out of my blood back when I was in the hospital unit.

A date catches my eye. October, 26th. Wait... but isn't that...?

"What?" Peter asks from across the room.

My face heats up as I run a hand through my hair and force myself to look at him. My heartbeat becomes so frantic that I am convinced at one point it will punch a hole through my chest. I find my voice soon enough.

"I don't..." Full sentences don't quite agree with me. I don't know what to say. Could I actually be pregnant?

I stand paralyzed in front of him. All through the one minute silence, he doesn't move a muscle with me. That is until I bite my lip at him.

"I think I will need... a pregnancy test," I say quietly, taking a step back. The shock on Peter's face doesn't register until he starts to talk.

"A... p-pregnancy...?" he stutters. I nod slowly, trying not to scare him with my quick movements.

I might be pregnant. What do I do?

I did think that at some point we were going to have kids, but never this soon. This is all too real. Absent-mindedly, I put a hand on my stomach, trying to feel the growing life through my hand. Peter's eyes travel down to it, softening at the sight.

"I'll get one for you today," he says when he finds his words.

I shut my eyes for a second, thinking of what the future holds. The answer is that I do not know. It has been two months since I reunited with Peter. Since then I have learned how to let go of the past. I don't think of Tobias anymore. I will always love him, but not in this life. In this life, Peter is the one who is mine to love. I can see that now. We will build our future on our mistakes and fears. It will never be normal, but what the hell is normal? I accept that my nightmares about the war will never stop. They will get better, but at the end of the day, I cannot simply forget.

"Tris," he whispers. I open my eyes to look up at him, "Even if you're pregnant... I promise I'll stand by you."

His eyebrows furrow in all seriousness as he nods at me.

Of course he will stand by me. I did not doubt that for a second.

**The new fanfic from Peter's point of view will be published in about two weeks. By then I promise I will have a lot of chapters ready, so the updates will be regular. Don't forget that I need time to come up with a new plot for Peter, so that you guys are still interested. Even though you know how this story ends, Peter's perspective will always be different. **

**The story will be called 'New Endings' and REMEMBER that it should be published in about two weeks time. So without further ado, review and tell me what you think, and I am hoping some of you will pipe in to read my brand new fanfic later :)**


	38. Chapter 38

**Just a heads up-**

**'New Endings' has an introductory chapter thingy now, so I would be grateful if all of you shimmied to that fanfic and added it to your favorites or followed it. **

**Just in case anybody was lost and needed me to tell them where the story is (will be) :)**


	39. Chapter 39

**A lot of you have been requesting a sequel or an additional chapter to New Beginnings. Well I have thought this through and I am happy to say it will be uploaded soon. So keep an eye out for a story called 'New Responsibilities'.**

**It will only be a one-shot but I will try to make it as long as I can :)**

**And stop freaking out about New Endings xD I will upload when I have written something down. I don't want the process of writing it to put me off writing altogether, so I am taking generous breaks. It does not mean I am giving up on the story :P**

**Anyway, 'New Responsibilities'. Hang in there for a few more days. Be brave.**

**Bye :)**


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